A Man's Pride
by Michelle1408
Summary: A young thief named Anastasia Fetcher stumbles into the Van der Linde Gang and is sucked into a world of fighting for freedom. The unconventional romantic dynamics amongst misfits and killers lead to something much more complex than a love triangle. (Contains spoilers for RDR games!)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

I never loved my father, I always knew that. From the day I was born, he never loved me either. I was born in a small mountain village in West Elizabeth on January 23rd, 1879. My mother always swore she never lived through a colder day than when her first daughter was born. That was also the day my father left.

Now at the age of 20, I hardly look back on such a time. My mother left me alone in this world when I was 15 and I learned how to survive in a man's world. Five years later, with no family and no money left, I abandon Strawberry and the shack that I once called home. I need to find a source of income, but where would a woman of my status find work that doesn't require her to spread her legs for any man with a couple of dollars? The answer was nowhere unless I was willing to break the law. I knew how to shoot, and I guess you can say I'm light on my feet, which makes becoming a thief a good option. But I can't do it alone…. I need people who could protect me in this wild world. For now, I'll keep moving, robbing lonesome travellers whenever I can. My name is Anastasia Fetcher and I am a survivor if nothing else.

Chapter 1

A few months later…

A ray of light burned through my fragile eyelids, I groaned and rolled to the left side on my bedroll. You'd think sleeping under a tree would help block out the sun, but that ain't happening on a day as bright as today. I sat up, looking off to the distant town of Valentine from my small camp. It had to be past 9 in the morning, I've slept in. "Well Ana you always do sleep in after a beer or two, what were you thinking again?" I said to myself quietly through a soft chuckle. I've gotten into the habit of saying random thoughts out loud every now and then, I guess that's what you do when you travel alone.

I stood up and reached my arms out to the sky in a long stretch. I picked up my pocket mirror and fixed up my hair and makeup. My eyes lingered on my reflection. Dark brown eyes, wavy chestnut hair that fell gently onto my shoulders and back. I've always been fairly confident, I knew I was pretty, men told me that when I walked the streets. I can't say that I'm a rare beauty though, just pretty. I brushed down my royal blue dress, it was low-cut with buttons and a couple ruffles at the hem. My favourite dress in all honesty. I put on my gun belt and satchel and headed towards the nearby town.

Drops of sweat fell down the back of my neck. "Just need to save up enough for a horse… walking in this heat, man…" I mumbled nearly silently throughout my quickened breathing. This place looked a lot closer from camp, that's for sure. I had arrived at the main street, time to get down to business. I eyed the saloon, a prime location for robbing men looking for some intimate company. I smirked to myself, today would be a breeze. I subtly entered the establishment, a couple men giving me a glance as I walked by. I made a straight line for the bar.

"My good sir, you got anything that'll quench my thirst on this hot day?" I smiled in a friendly manner to the bartender who returned my request with a nod and soon after a beer. I handed him the money and sipped, waiting to see who would approach me today. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing," a stranger stated. I looked over, typical working man, long brown hair and beard, he smelled a bit foul, he would do just fine. "Why thank you, sir, you're rather handsome yourself," I said as I pretended to eye him mischievously, this would be easy as pie. He reacted calmly to my words, he was falling for my act. "I'm an honest feller, and I like to get straight down to business, why don't you and I go somewhere quiet?" he said as he practically whispered in my ear. "I like that in a man, why don't we?"

He followed me into an alleyway, hidden from most of the town. Once we were further down, he shoved me against the brick wall, pinning my body with what felt like all of his strength. "Woah, why don't you slow down a bit?!" He ignored me, groping my body hastily. I couldn't reach my gun or knife, I tried pushing him off, but he pushed back harder. Fuck this wasn't good. I then realized my only weapon was my head and I headbutted him as hard as I could, he stumbled back, looking shocked and confused. I took the chance to knock him out with my pistol. Lord, that hurt my head. I pressed my palms against my forehead and winced. "Ugh, don't use that move again Ana."

I looked down both ends of the alleyway, I needed to get out before anyone saw me. I looted his bag and pockets, he had about $20. Not bad, not bad at all. I begin to walk quickly so I could get away before the man woke up until I walked straight into a man who was turning the corner, followed by two other men, my face colliding with his hard chest. "Oh, sir I-I am so sorry, silly me, never looking where I'm heading..." I stopped speaking as soon as I made eye contact with the man, he was… well, he was beautiful. Jet black hair, slicked back, brown eyes. I eyed his red handkerchief tucked into the pocket of his black vest.

He returned my startled expression with a calm smile, the kind that makes you envy someone for their composure. "Don't you worry miss, are you alright dear?" His hand grazed the skin of my forearm, a smooth, polite gesture sending chills down my spine. I was about to respond until he saw the cash sticking out from my satchel and the man who seemed to be void of consciousness. He almost seemed to smile to himself. I begin to frantically craft an excuse in my own head until he breaks the tension.

"Seems we've found ourselves a beautiful troublemaker, haven't we boys? My name is Dutch van der Linde, and who might you be?"

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you like this first chapter! I don't have a lot of experience with fan fiction writing so feel free to comment with feedback. I'd really love to hear ideas because I just thought of this idea today. Basically, I'm planning a romance between Anastasia and Dutch but I'm also thinking of making it a love triangle with John as well? Also, just so you all know, I'm not following the exact events of RDR 2, just the timeline and certain events. Please comment!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Everything seemed to slow down around me, I knew that wasn't actually happening, but I couldn't focus on anything but him. He looked down at me expectantly, despite me being a rather tall girl at 5'8, he towered at least a head above me.

"I'm Anastasia Fet..." I can't say my last name, you fool Ana, you've got a bounty on your head, a small bounty, but still a bounty. "Pardon me, you can call me Ana… Ana Fisher." Well, I've never been the creative type.

"Beautiful name for a fine young lady. So, miss Fisher, what'd this feller do to end up passed out in an alleyway?"

I stifled a long sigh, I need to come up with a story and quick. Who knows who these men are? He seems too smart to fall for my act, but I have to try something. An older man with a thin face and grey hair looked over to me, then back to a man with light brown hair and blue eyes. The blue-eyed man spoke. "Dutch, she's probably just a working girl, we should let her get out of here before someone notices."

Dutch looks back at him before his gaze settles back onto me. "Arthur, let her speak."

"I ain't no working girl… I came to town to sell some of my pa's eggs to the general store, he jumped me when I went through this shortcut. Please don't turn me into the law! The cash is what they paid me for the eggs!" I made sure to look into the eyes of all three men, the fake tears pricking at my eyes surely noticeable, I admit that they don't feel all that fake right now.

Dutch had a look of sympathy, the girl was surely attacked by the man, he got what he deserved. Even if her story wasn't true, he would never turn her in. He looked down at her dress, it was wrinkled where the man had grabbed her.

"My friends and I, we aren't good men, we're bad men. But I promise we won't hurt you. I know you ain't some innocent farm girl, we saw you dragging that feller over here and you're too clean to be a working girl. You're a thief, a smart one it seems, we could use someone like you…"

The older gentlemen stared daggers into the back of Dutch's head. Was this really what they needed right now, to invite some stranger into their camp after what happened in Blackwater? It seemed foolish, but the girl seems like she needs people watching her back if she was truly a full-time thief.

"Dutch, are you sure? Pearson has a lot of mouths to feed right now, we ain't exactly swimming in cash neither…"

"And what does a thief bring in Hosea? Cash! You and I both know Karen isn't donating as much to the box as she used to, she's too drunk to steal most of the time."

I stood silently, watching the exchange between the men. I wasn't sure if I could trust them, but they could be exactly what I need right now. The man called Arthur looked over to me, our eyes met, he smiled softly, trying to reassure me on some level. I smiled back.

Hosea backed down, shrugging as an admittance of defeat. Dutch was right, a new girl could boost morale back at camp.

"Well, that settles it then. How would you like to join our gang miss Fisher?"

Dutch awaited my answer with a sparkle of hope in his eyes. He seemed to like me. I guess it's easy to like someone who seemed so innocent, but reeks of deviant behaviour.

The way her blue dress clung to her hips, those wide brown eyes… his lover, Molly O'Shea, was the last thing on his mind right now. All he saw was her.

"It's actually Ana Fetcher… and the answer is yes."

…

The wind brushed almost sweetly against her cheeks, it smelt like spring. Dutch's horse was fast. The white stallion galloped so gracefully against the rugged terrain. He kindly offered to give her a ride back to camp, promising they'd set her up with her own horse later today.

Her back pressed against Dutch's chest, he resisted every primal urge he felt to place his free hand wherever he pleased on her body. He would never dare to do so though, he'd always respected women, that would never change. That didn't mean he can't touch her with words.

"Let me know if you like this pace, miss Fetcher."

She smiled even though he couldn't see. Two could play at that game.

"I like a fast ride."

Dutch let out a low chuckle, she felt him vibrate against her.

"You'll fit in just fine with us."

"I hope so… I've never travelled with others, been on my own for years now."

"We got good people back at camp. You'll be family in no time. And having someone cook for you ain't so bad, even if it's Pearson's stew, don't tell him I said that."

She returned his comment with a small laugh, feeling nervous but excited to meet more of the gang, she truly hoped that this gang did in fact exist.

…

Dutch helped me off his horse, grabbing my waist tightly with his large hands. I felt the coolness of his rings through the fabric of my dress. I looked around several tents, a few people looked over, whispering to each other, until all of them began to gather before Dutch. Seems like they knew when Dutch had something to say, I had a feeling he was the leader.

"Everyone, this here is Anastasia Fetcher, the newest member of our family. We found her robbing some fool blind in Valentine. Hosea and I have agreed she'll make an excellent addition to our family. I expect you all to make her feel welcome here. Miss Grimshaw, see to it that she has a place to sleep."

After meeting each of the gang members, who all seemed kind enough, Miss Grimshaw grabbed my arm, like a mother guiding a child, and showed me to a small tent near the edge of the camp.

"It was supposed to be Karen's, but she said she'll stay with the rest of the girls, make yourself at home Ana!"

She smiled and walked off, she sure seemed like a busy woman.

I looked over to see a man leaning against a tree nearby, looks like someone I haven't met. I walked towards him, he looked up at me. A handsome guy he is, looks pretty injured.

"That's one hell of a scar. I'm Ana."

He smiled at me softly, he's young, but still a man.

"I'm John Marston, nice to meet you miss, sorry I didn't introduce myself after Dutch's big speech but my leg's not doing so good."

I sit across from him, tucking my legs to one side.

"I'd ask if a bear got you, but I doubt you'd be alive if one did."

"Nope, a couple wolves. Tough sons of bitches." John seemed to shift uncomfortably at the memory, I try to lighten the mood.

"Those scars probably make you seem a hell of a lot tougher to strangers."

"What you trying to say, miss? I wouldn't look tough without them?" A playful smirk emerged on his face.

"You don't scare me, Mr Marston." I dared to look straight into his eyes with a smile, he almost seemed intimidated.

"Well, good."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm just trying to establish all the relationships so let me know what you want to see next!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	3. Chapter 3

A few weeks later…

I gazed at a tree swaying in the wind, chopping carrots mindlessly for tonight's stew. It's easy to get lost in thought on a day like today. Spirits were high, everyone practically had a smile on their face, even Susan wasn't yelling at me to hurry up my chopping. It's hard to explain this feeling, but I won't fight it.

It must've been the return of Sean that inspired this mood. I guess he means a lot to the gang, despite the fact that he seems to annoy everyone, almost like a little brother. I like him, even though my sense of humour fits more with Arthur than anyone else.

Arthur and I have become good friends in these past weeks, he taught me how to improve my aim. Even showed me that I had been hunting wrong all my life, his words not mine.

Dutch was… I glanced over to our leader, he scanned the camp with a cigar hanging loosely from his lips. Molly by his side, putting on her face like she does every day, I swear that woman hasn't worked a day in her life. His eyes met my own. I felt my heartbeat quicken until a sudden pain overwhelmed my left hand. I looked down, I must've cut myself while daydreaming.

Pearson glanced over with a sickened expression. "Did I say tonight's recipe called for a chunk of a human finger?" He chuckled, I rolled my eyes with a smile in return. The cut must've been deeper than I realized at first because it started to really sting.

"Fuck that hurts, Tilly would you mind taking over while I wrap this please? Unless anyone likes blood in their stew?"

Tilly gave me a sweet nod and a touch on the shoulder as I walked over to my tent and took a seat, looking for some whiskey to clean my wound. A shadow blocked the sunlight that was beating down on me.

"Miss Fetcher are you alright? That looks like it went deep."

Dutch stood before me, he looks genuinely concerned, it was kind of sweet.

"I'll live. Should've paid more attention, I know Pearson likes to keep his knives sharp." I smiled through the pain, Dutch returned my smile with a more sympathetic one before kneeling down, taking my arm in a gentle grasp while inspecting my cut. Suddenly it didn't hurt as much.

"Let me take care of this for you…" Dutch proceeded to clean the cut with some whiskey before wrapping it tightly with a bandage. That stung like hell but at least it won't get infected.

"Thank you, sir." I nodded in a thankful manner towards Dutch, he suddenly had a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Sir? My lady, I may be old, but I hope that I'm not old enough that a pretty young lady feels the need to call me sir." He was teasing me, I won't pretend that I didn't hope for this reaction.

"Since when does sir mean old? I always saw it as strong and powerful, like a sign of respect." He looked flattered, was he blushing? Never thought I'd see Dutch van der Linde blush. It was endearing.

"How about you and I take a walk somewhere?"

…

The day was still young as the pair walked along the shore of a nearby river. The air was fresh, making every breathe worth the wholesome feeling that it came with. They'd been walking in a comfortable silence for a few minutes when Dutch spoke.

"You're something else, Anastasia…"

She blushed, looking down in hopes that he wouldn't notice. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"You're an intelligent, beautiful, thief that came from a broken home. Most of the boys back there don't know the difference between left or right, I swear. But you, you've got a good head on your shoulders." He pointed to his own forehead while looking into her eyes.

"Thank you, Dutch. So, can I ask why you brought me out here? I hope you're not planning on killing me now, that would be a shame." They shared a playful laugh.

"Nothing like that, yet! I wanted to spend some time with you… away from… well, you know who. But I also think that it's time that we put those thieving skills of yours to use. You've been a great help to Miss Grimshaw, but we need money. John's been setting up a train robbery for tomorrow. I'd like you to join the boys."

She paused their walk for a moment, looking to the water in thought. A train? That's big, a lot bigger than robbing one man at a time like she used to. She thinks she can do it, why not try? What does she have to lose from trying? Well, besides getting shot in the head or arrested.

"I'll do it. You can trust me to get the job done, Dutch."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that."

They were facing one another now. She didn't break the eye contact between the two of them. She imagined most women would be intimidated by such a stare. Molly sure was. Late at night, when she and Dutch rested by the fire, Dutch would look at her with a loving gaze when they weren't arguing, she never returned his stares. She refused to be like her. She always believed you don't have to speak to let someone know how you feel.

He stepped closer to her, their faces inches apart. she could feel his warm breath against her face, it smelt of whiskey and smoke. Their moment was harshly interrupted by a screech coming from camp.

"DUTCH?! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Of course, it was Molly, who else would yell in such a hysterical manner when her man was gone for more than ten minutes. She rolled my eyes as Dutch huffed in anger.

"That woman, my god, what am I to do with her?" he growled.

"Don't worry Dutch, we'll speak later." They exchanged a nod before returning to camp. One thing Ana knew for sure, she does not like Molly O'Shea one bit.

…

"Tonight, we celebrate my friends! Welcome back, Sean!" Dutch shouted as the gang raised their bottles of beer, each saying their own version of cheers.

I downed the bubbly liquid in a smooth gulp. I haven't been drunk in months, tonight sure seemed like a good night to drink as much as a woman my size can. Karen threw her arm around my shoulders.

"Oh, my friend, I've been drunk since noon!" We shared a friendly laugh before she stumbled off in Sean's direction. They made a lovely couple, even if Karen didn't agree. I ignored the lonesome feeling by gulping down the rest of my drink.

A couple hours later…

 _Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin'_

 _Oh my darlin', oh my darlin' sweet Clementine,_

 _You may be gone_

 _But!_

 _You're not forgotten,_

 _Fare thee well_

 _So long, Clementine_

Ana joined John, Arthur, Karen, Javier and Sean in a hysterical laugh as they finished singing a song, rather poorly, but all of them were too drunk to notice.

"My god, is the sun coming up? How long was that song?" Arthur slurred over his words and laughed.

"We best get some rest or Miss Grimshaw will surely hang us all tomorrow!" Karen leaned over and giggled in Sean's ear before everyone except John and Ana left to get at least a few hours of rest.

"I don't know about you John but I ain't sleeping when I'm this drunk."

John chuckled and smiled sweetly. "Me either Ana, why don't we go over by that tree, so we don't wake everyone up?"

The two of them stumbled towards the spot not far from camp, supporting each other before falling into the dirt when they attempted to sit down. They began to laugh so hard neither of them could breath.

"It-it ain't even that funny, is it?!" Ana wiped a tear as she laughed into John's chest, both unaware that Ana was laying on top of him.

"Everything's funny when you drink!"

They lay like that for almost an hour, until John felt his drunken state slightly wearing off, he looked down to the woman on top of him. She was nearly asleep; her dark hair was illuminated by the moonlight. He played with her hair, running his fingers through the soft texture. She looked up with groggy eyes.

"John?" She asked when she felt his rough hands touching her head.

"Come here you."

He pulled her towards his chest, one hand on her back and the other in her hair. Her lips on his, their tongues caressing each other. She could taste his drink of choice, whiskey.

His hips bucked into hers, she could feel his arousal. He wanted her. She couldn't think straight, all she knows is that she wants him. She starts moving her hips in a sensual motion, he groans quietly.

He pulls her back into a wet kiss, she moans gently, trying to be quiet.

"Oh, would you fools be quiet?! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Uncle shouted from his nearby bedroll.

John and she laughed silently, covering each other's mouths with hands in a desperate attempt to remain silent while they worked to reach their climaxes in unison. John snuck a hand into her dress, touching her quickly on a woman's most sensitive spot. She whimpered into his hand as he bit his lip, holding back a moan.

They retreated back to her tent once they were done, quickly falling into a deep sleep, not truly understanding what had just happened.

A/N: Another chapter, please review! I have a lot of free time right now, so I'll be writing as much as I can in the next few weeks. What does everyone want to see next?

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning…

A gust of wind breaks its way through the opening of my text, a shiver runs down my arms as I resist the urge to fall back into a blissful state of sleep. I feel a constant thud on my temple, I'm hungover.

"Ugh, you idiot…" I mumble to myself.

I begin to push myself up when my eyes catch sight of the half-dressed man next to me. John. Fuck. This can't be good.

I poked him in the ribcage with my index finger, he flinched. At least he ain't dead. I mustered the courage to speak.

"John."

"I'm trying to sleep here Abigail what do you…" his eyes widened, a panicked look takes over his face.

"Ana?! What happened? Fuck did we, you know?"

I shook my head quickly, trying to sustain my own panic. "No, at least I don't think so… but we definitely went as far as we could considering the state we were both in."

John seemed a bit relieved, at least he wouldn't have to worry about bringing another child into this world. He began to recall the events of last night, frowning at the thought of betraying Abigail. He loved her but the two of them hadn't been together since Jack was born. He wanted to believe it was pure lust, he hadn't cared for another woman in years.

"I'm sorry Anastasia. I-I should've stopped it."

...

She put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "No, we're both at fault… look I promise not to say anything. Nothing happened last night, you fell asleep in here because you were too drunk to find your own tent, okay?"

John nodded in agreement, all they could do was move past this, he hoped to god that no one had heard them last night. He smirked at the thought of praying, he was never a religious man.

The two of them faced in opposite directions as they got back into their clothes. Ana making sure her hair wasn't a mess. She turned to him.

"Alright, I'm decent." They exchanged a small smile.

"I'd better go wash up, I uh, think I smell of you." John contained a smirk as the words left his lips.

She sniffed him subtly, lavender. "Good idea, try not to drown"

John rolled his eyes before they both left the tent, heading in different directions.

...

No one seemed to notice, luckily, most people were still passed out. I sighed in relief when Abigail was nowhere to be seen

"Have fun last night?" a voice spoke up from behind me. I turned around quickly to see Micah, he had a disgusting look on his face.

"Great. You're back," I said in a sarcastic tone, I don't quite like that man. Something's off about him.

"Looks like I missed one hell of a party. So, tell me which one of them boys had you last night? Will it be my turn next?"

My expression hardened, without thinking I slapped Micah with all my strength, walking away quickly as he stumbled backwards. Asshole.

I looked down at my stinging palm until I heard footsteps behind me, I readied myself for a fight until I saw it was Arthur who approached me.

"My lady, are you alright? Is Micah bothering you? I swear I'll teach that bastard a lesson, just give me the word."

"Don't bother, I think he'll leave me be now," we exchange a knowing smirk.

"Good, good. Hey, you coming along for that train robbery today?"

"I sure am."

Later that day…

My heart pounded against my chest, I attempted to steady myself by taking long breaths one at a time. There are so many things that could go wrong while robbing a train, but I can't think of that right now.

I lifted my head up to Arthur, who was standing on top of a wagon full of explosives, a shotgun in hand

"You sure this'll work?" I asked, hoping fear didn't sound obvious in my voice, John looked at me then back to Arthur.

"If you were driving that train wouldn't you stop?" Arthur said confidently. I nodded to myself, securing my bandana which hid my identity.

I felt the ground rumble, it's coming.

"Get ready fellers!" John shouted above the sound of the oncoming train. I grip my pistol tightly with sweaty hands.

The train stops just before it collides with the explosives, I sigh out in relief, following John's lead as we board the train.

"Ladies and gentlemen stay calm and none of ya'll will get shot! Hand over all you've got, money and valuables!" John yelled at the top of his lungs. I point my pistol right between the eyes of each civilian we rob.

We come across a man who looks me right in the eye, I shout in his face without any hesitation. "The fuck you looking at? Hand it over mister or I'll put a bullet between your eyes!" I hardly recognize my own voice, I've robbed before, but this feels different.

John looks at me for the briefest of seconds, I swear his bandana was concealing a smirk from the way his cheeks lifted.

Arthur catches up with us, looking at the frightened passengers, then back to us. "Miss I can help him out from here, you go check on that red-headed fool" I nod confidently, moving quickly on my way to find the Irish man.

I look up to see him at the entrance of the baggage cart. "Sean, what you doing? You ain't even look yet?" I try and keep my voice to a loud whisper, so no one hears his name.

"Calm down woman! There's probably something in here."

Sean is interrupted by a man who bursts out of the door, a gun in hand, he tries pushing him off but fails. My eyes widen, I've never killed before, but I have no choice. I have to save Sean.

I aim my weapon and take the shot. Blood splatters everywhere and I feel nothing.

"For fuck's sake," Sean says, pain evident in his voice as he presses a hand against his ear. I shoot down two other men who collapse instantly. "Sean stay here and watch my back, I'll go look."

"I'll try me best sister, but I'm seeing double here."

"Gives you twice the chance of hitting someone right?" Sean responds with a painful laugh as I loot the cart. I smile as I collect all the cash and valuables, Dutch will be pleased.

"Ana, we've got a problem out here" Sean looks at me, I run to him to see two men on horses.

"Smith, Marston, Morgan, get the hell out here right now!" The men rush out, taking cover by my side.

Arthur takes a peak before addressing the men. "There's only two of you assholes! You best ride away!"

My jaw drops as several men appear from the woods, well fuck. "Me and my big mouth," Arthur mumbles seeming irritated.

I'm the first one to act, shooting the man's lantern so his clothes catch on fire, I can hear his screams as the gunfire starts.

"We need to get out of here!" Arthur shouts. We run for our horses, staying together as they gallop away in unison.

"Stay with me now!" Arthur yells as he points his gun back, taking a shot. I'm about to do the same until I feel something hard break through my skin, I cry out, grabbing my shoulder to feel warm blood trickling down my exposed arm.

Everyone looks back to make sure I didn't die, John looks terrified until he sees me alive. My horse got spooked and isn't able to keep up with the group. "Come on boy!" I ignore the desperation in my voice as I try to get the old stallion moving again.

"Jump on!" I look to John who rode back, I don't bother thinking twice before I get on the back of his horse, leaving my own to run off to god knows where. I grab his shoulders.

"Shit you get shot? Are you alright?" John looks back halfway, making sure to pay attention to where he's going.

"I-I'm fine… I think the bullet went right through. Thank you, John."

John tries not to worry as he catches up with the rest of the men, they ride until Arthur says it's safe.

...

Arthur looks over to Anastasia with a look of concern painted on his face. "She okay?" John nods, looking a bit unsure of his own answer.

"Look we need to split up, don't head straight back to camp, besides John. You take her back, and quick. That'll need to be cleaned and wrapped." John nods before he rides off, taking a look at Anastasia who appears to have passed out.

"Ana, stay with me!" She groans softly at the pain, resting her head on John's shoulder as they ride back.

A/N: thank you to everyone who is following and favouriting the story! I'm glad you're liking it. If you have an idea or scenario you want to see please let me know! I'm more than willing to take requests.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	5. Chapter 5

Water splashes on the hem of Anastasia's blue jeans as John crosses a river, thinking they'll be back quicker with this shortcut. She tries to focus on the smallest of details to prevent herself from blacking out again. She stares intently at the movement of the horse's mane through a particularly resistant gust of wind.

A crack of thunder breaks her out of a trance-like state, her eyes move to the blackening sky, a large drop of rain hitting her forehead before it starts pouring. John feels her shiver against his back, he frowns.

They're almost back now, John sees the distant smoke coming from camp. He encourages his horse to move even faster.

…

"Who's there?!" shouts Karen from underneath a tree while keeping watch, her cold fingers clasped around a carbine repeater.

"It's John coming in! Ana's been shot!" Karen's eyes widen, trying to tell if the woman is alive or not through the storm which fogs her vision. She shouts for Miss Grimshaw and Dutch to come quick.

John jumps off his horse, his hands reaching for Ana's waist to help her off until a strong arm gently shoves him out of the way, he stares at the back of Dutch's black hair which has been soaked after only a few seconds.

Dutch carries her bridal style towards his tent, a few others following, he looks down at her with worrisome eyes, she appears to be half-awake. Molly shoots a look of jealousy at Dutch when they enter before Miss Grimshaw forces her out of the way.

Abigail rushes in to help considering she's the closest thing they've got to a doctor. She begins working quickly, Dutch biting his lip to contain his own anxiety. John watches everything from a distance, pretending to seem like he doesn't care too much.

The following morning…

Anastasia opens her eyes, observing her surroundings for a moment. This isn't her tent, the sight of Dutch resting his head by her side confirms where she is. She looks down to see her hand enclosed by both of his hands loosely, she can't help but smile a little.

"Dutch?" He looks up almost immediately, a bit disoriented at first before a look of relief overcomes his face. He's never been so glad to hear his own name.

"Ana… How're you feeling darling?" He raises his eyebrows, lowering his head down to press his lips against her hand, his dark eyes don't leave her face.

"I'm fine, I think I just lost quite a bit of blood but there's no need to worry Dutch," she sits up slowly, ignoring a sharp pain that shoots through her shoulder. There's no way she was going to let one bullet keep her in bed all day. Her mother always told her the best way to heal is to move on, she smiled sadly at the memory of the woman who left her.

"I knew that old horse was no good. Should've just gone into town and purchased a new one for you…" Dutch broke their eye contact, looking down in shame.

She reaches for him and shuffles towards him, she places both her hands to his face, holding him gently in place. "Don't you go blaming yourself. Even if I died no one would be at fault. I'm alive and we got the money, that's all the matters, right?" She awaits his nod and smiles like a proud student, glad to see her teacher agreeing with her.

He holds her wrists, the feeling of his callused fingers against her smooth skin awakens something inside her. They seem to acknowledge what might be happening next with a look.

"Dutch we can't, Molly would kill me…"

He tries to contain his annoyance with the Irish girl, she was becoming more of an issue for him with each day that passes. Even though he made it clear to Molly that they were not exclusive, Anastasia was right, she might do something that stupid while overcome by anger. They'd need to be careful if this was going to work. And kissing in camp is the least careful they could be.

"I know, there'll be a time and place for us, I assure you… because I take what I want Ana, and I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."

The two of them sit in silence for a moment. She knew that this was wrong, especially considering what happened between her and John… but she thought back to how Dutch spoke about freedom. To Anastasia, freedom means taking from the rich and living her life however she pleased to. Maybe it also means not resisting who she desired.

"Alright, Dutch."

Dutch smiled back at her sheepishly, it was the last thing she expected from him at that moment. It was sweet, he seemed like he had something he wants to ask of her.

She was the one to speak up. "What is it?"

"Can I hold you?" She held back a small laugh, she never pictured him as the cuddling type of man. "I ain't asking to spoon you if that's what you was thinking." He disciplined her with dark humorous eyes, she smirked at him like a child who's been caught stealing.

They stood in front of each other as he wrapped his arms around her waist in a swift motion, to everyone in the camp, it would look like a friendly hug, their staggered breathing said otherwise. Dutch made sure no one was walking by when he moves his hands to her bottom, gripping it tightly with his long fingers, she gasps quietly into his ear. He pushes her body closer to him as he smirks.

He clears his throat and releases her from his grasp quickly, "Glad you're feeling better miss, come see me when you're ready to work." He dips his head and winks, walking outside and leaving her feeling rather unsatisfied. "Damn you van der Linde" she whispers to herself.

A few days later…

I remove an arrow from the neck of a rabbit I killed, wiping the fresh blood off of it. I decided to go hunting since I was feeling better. I was getting tired of deer, no offence Charles, I smile lightly to myself, throwing the carcass over my shoulder then onto the new horse that Arthur gave me. I tried refusing it, but he insisted since he found some beautiful white stallion wandering about in the snow.

I pull myself onto the grey horse and scratch its neck as I begin to ride back. I decide to stop in Valentine and pick up some supplies, might not get a chance to for a while, supposedly we're planning on moving soon cause Arthur and Jack ran into some lawmen, I think their names were Milton and Ross? I don't mind, I could use the change of scenery, I never did like staying in one place for too long. I wrinkle my nose at the scent of manure, this is exactly why I don't like this town.

"Good morning partner," I say to the general store manager, picking up a couple cans of food and snacks for my horse before browsing through the catalogue, eyeing a low-cut red dress, I smile at the thought of wearing it near Dutch. I think he might like the colour red on a woman, I change into the dress and braid my hair before heading back to camp.

…

It's nearly evening when I get back to camp, I carry the rabbits I killed and drop them on Pearson's table, "You'd best not say you haven't received much from me lately again Pearson, cook up something decent with these would you?" Pearson squints his eyes at me before we share a brief laugh together. I feel Dutch's eyes on me as I head towards my tent.

John looks up from his bowl of stew, trying to peel his eyes off the red dress as Anastasia walks by him, his eyes monitor Dutch who follows her steps.

"New dress?" Dutch asks, leaning against a nearby barrel, his hands on his belt.

"Uh-huh," she responds, keeping her back to him as she puts away her supplies. It's been like this ever since the moment they had in his tent. They were still waiting for the time and place to be right, Dutch was becoming impatient.

Molly had her eyes fixated on them, he had to come up with a plan.

"I need you to keep watch for the first half of the night, think you can handle that?" he asks casually, she turns to him and nods. "I can handle it just fine."

Later that night…

Anastasia leans against a tree near the front of the camp, ignoring the sounds of Uncle snoring as her tired eyes scan the forest, her gun hanging from her shoulder.

The sound of light footsteps and a branch cracking cause her to turn around, Dutch stands not far from her, his shirt is unbuttoned a bit, he had gone to bed, or at least pretended to.

"You always have a plan, don't you Dutch?" she puts her gun down on the ground, resting a hand on her hip.

"I was getting tired of waiting," he moves towards her, his hands feel warm as they push down the strap of her dress, he strokes his thumb against her shoulder while leaning in slowly.

"Waiting for what?" she whispers, he moves his hand to the back of her head and smiles. "This," he says confidently before he crashes his lips onto hers, guiding her towards a tree which he pushes her up against. The two of them moaning as their tongues fight for dominance. She wraps her legs around him, he grabs her thighs.

He pulls back and presses a finger against her lips, reminding her to stay quiet. Dutch decides that they should save the love-making for when Molly isn't around to hear it, he doesn't trust himself to be discreet with her. Instead, he reaches under her dress and silences her with a kiss.

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! So, I know it's easy to see Ana as being a bit of a you know what, but a major theme of this fic is female empowerment through a woman taking control of her own sexuality and feelings in a time where women were shamed for doing so. I hope that's obvious from this chapter but if you think there's a better way to write that in feel free to let me know! I really appreciate those of you who reviewed the fic, it inspires me to write more!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	6. Chapter 6

It was near sunrise when Anastasia and Dutch reluctantly returned to their separate tents. They'd spent hours talking about their lives. She smiled as she recalled the night they spent together, she could still smell the lingering scent of the man much older than she on her blouse.

They spoke of their past, their families, what led them to live the outlaw life and their hopes for the future, Dutch seemed to have more of an idea of where he sees himself heading. The drawn-out conversation often interrupted by kisses, so many that if left their lips feeling numb by the end of the night. She didn't mind, well that's how she felt now, earlier she was practically begging him for more, kissing his neck as an attempt of persuasion. It took all of his willpower to gently push her eager hands off himself as he comforted her with the reminder that someone would hear them. Dutch was never a man who kept quiet during lovemaking. They looked back at one another before entering their tents, not wanting to say goodbye just yet.

I sighed deeply and rubbed my eyes. He was making things rather difficult for me. He said that we couldn't tonight, but it felt as if there was an underlying meaning to his temporary rejection. Was he teasing me? Building anticipation? If that was his intention, it's sure as hell working. Most men just get right down to business, I have to admire his use of psychological foreplay. I chuckle to myself before getting comfortable, might as well get some sleep.

…

It couldn't have been past eight in the morning when my deep sleep is harshly interrupted by the sounds of yelling, who could be making all that noise?

"I've seen you looking at her, Dutch." I recognized Molly's accent, it was full of rage.

"Who?"

"You know who! Getting too old for you, am I? That's how it usually works for you, isn't it?"

"You're losing your damn mind, Molly."

I attempt to cover my ears with a pillow, it's clear she is speaking about me, but I've got no interest in hearing this.

"Won't even look me in the eye but you look at her all day!"

"Don't matter what I say you'll believe in whatever fantasy you're living in!"

I shut my eyes tightly, the pillow isn't working.

"Fantasy? You think this is a fantasy for me?"

"I do not have the energy for this right now." Dutch was clearly growing impatient with her, I could try walking outside, she might leave him alone for once if she sees me.

"It's written all over you. I'm not stupid, I've been watching! You haven't touched me in weeks, I bet you went to go see her last night!"

Molly was about to continue her rant until I exit my tent, heading over to pour myself a cup of coffee, just as I expected her loud footsteps made their way over to me.

"Good morning Miss O'Shea," I say sarcastically with a smile, she scowls at me like a schoolgirl fighting for the boy she's sweet on.

"You!" she points an accusing finger at me, "stay away from Dutch, he's mine, you hear me?!"

I sip my coffee and roll my eyes, Dutch is watching from afar, making sure he doesn't need to step in.

"I didn't realize we were playing a game of finders keepers, Molly. Dutch is a grown man and you're a grown woman, not a little girl, start acting like one. If you don't like the way we live our lives go home to mommy and daddy."

Molly stares daggers at me before lifting her hand back in a motion to slap me, before her hand meets my cheek, I grab her wrist tightly, dropping my coffee.

"That ain't happening, now leave me the hell alone." I shove her away from me, hard enough that she falls back onto the ground. She screams like a brat before running off to be by herself. Dutch and I exchange a smirk before I look over to the gang, who are laughing rather hysterically.

"Go home to mommy and daddy! That was my favourite part!" shouts Karen through a fit of laughter.

"Come on the scream, now that was golden!" responds Lenny.

"Alright, alright settle down everyone. The show is over," says Dutch, who attempts to resist the urge to laugh throughout each word.

Dutch strides over to me in a few steps, resting a hand on my shoulder, his fingers caressing my exposed skin. "I've got some business to attend to in Valentine, would you do me the honour of accompanying me? I respond with a nod, Dutch smiles, looking rather pleased.

The two of them head over to their horses, John watches her leave, wondering how the woman he'd nearly slept with days ago was now in the hands of his leader. He shook his head, becoming tired of pining over the young woman.

…

"How about a race to town Miss Fetcher?"

"Miss? I thought we were past the formalities?" I giggle, trying not to sound overly feminine. Dutch smirks as he so often does around me.

"Formality is a dying art in America, all that civilization is at fault I say… now how about that race?" he looks over to her, he couldn't help but admire the way her brown eyes lit up in the sun.

"This horse is as half as fast as yours at its best… but fine Dutch, let's race."

"On three, one… two… three… go!"

Dutch speeds up immediately and moves in front of Ana, she huffs out a small laugh as she does her best to barely keep up. Just as she suspected, her horse can hardly match the speed of his. She squints her eyes, wondering if he's taking it easy on her since she hasn't lost sight of him yet.

"You'd best not be slowing down for my sake Dutch!"

Dutch smiles and looks back, his new lover is thrillingly intelligent, she is like a breath of fresh air to him. "Your wish is my command dear!"

He speeds up, arriving at a saloon in Valentine, waiting about thirty seconds for Ana to arrive. She pretends to pout as they hitch their horses. Dutch laughs softly, he's become accustomed to her fabricated facial expressions.

"Come on Miss Fetcher, you know The Count is one of best," he motions to his white stallion with a prideful look on his face.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, Mr van der Linde!"

As they head into the bar, Dutch spins her around by her arm, leaning in to steal a kiss from her soft lips. To his disappointment Ana dodges his movement, planting a kiss on his cheek instead.

"Oh, I'm sorry Dutch, I can't kiss you here because well, I know once I start, I won't be able to stop," his eyes widen for a moment until he sees the joking look on her face, realizing she's mocking the words he spoke to her last night.

"You tease," he whispers with a laugh as they walk towards a table and sit down next to Strauss.

"Greetings Leopold, I hope you haven't been waiting too long, let's get down to business, yes?" Dutch says to the Austrian as he motions for the bartender to bring them drinks.

One hour later…

"I don't believe in absolutes, just shades of grey… compromises!" exclaims Strauss. Ana stares at her drink, this meeting is taking longer than she expected.

"Compromises?" Dutch says in a questioning manner. Ana looks up to see John and Arthur approaching, she and John make eye contact for a moment before she speaks up.

"Well look who it is," she smiles at the men who nod back at her before greeting Dutch and Strauss.

"Where've you been?" Dutch asks, seeming annoyed since they've been waiting for the pair to arrive for a while now.

"Working… Marston's thing," Arthur answers while motioning to John to satisfy his leader.

Dutch isn't quite satisfied just yet. Ana looks over to him, predicting his next question.

"And?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"We're just waiting to get some pay… on a few sheep." Arthurs answers while exchanging a nod with John.

Ana tilts her head wondering what sheep could be getting them money. "Sheep huh? I guess I won't bother asking how you found that job, John," she says jokingly, although John didn't seem to appreciate her tone. It felt a bit tense between them, but she wasn't sure why. They'd moved past what happened that night.

"Leopold, as long as you're here my friend, why don't you, John and my lady here go check if there's any funny business." The three of them nod at his request and head out. Ana lets Strauss walk in front of herself and John before speaking to him quietly.

"What's your problem Marston?" she asks, trying to suppress the feeling of frustration.

"I don't know what you're talking about Ana," he responds with a hard face, looking straight ahead.

"I ain't stupid John, you're mad at me. And if there's a reason I'd like to know, we're a part of the same family now, we've got to work together. If it's about the other night…" she looks over to him, hoping to find an answer in his expression.

"It ain't that alright? I guess I was surprised about you and Dutch that's all…"

She pauses for a moment, about to speak until a group of men come from behind, pointing their guns at them, ready to fire at any moment.

"You three! Stop now or we'll shoot!"

They stop in their tracks, looking at one another, almost attempting to come up with a plan telepathically. John and Ana look at each other, he looks at her gun, she subtly shakes her head, knowing that'll get them killed.

"Hands up! Now you savages!"

Ana raises her hands slowly, feeling a gun pressing into her back. Suddenly, one of the men grabs her roughly by the neck, pulling her back to the saloon. She eyes a rich-looking old man in a blue vest. He appears to be the one behind this, she bites her lip nervously as a gun is against her cheek.

The man with the blue vest begins to shout towards the saloon, seeming rather enraged. "van der Linde, get out here now! You don't know me, but you keep robbing me. My name is Leviticus Cornwall."

Ana looks through the window uneasily, hoping the pair has left even though she doubts they have.

"I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you! Get out here before I kill these men and your lady!"

She's pushed onto her knees as Cornwall rides off like a coward, she exchanges a look with Arthur and Dutch as they come out, wondering what Dutch has planned to get them out of this.

"Gentlemen, please, this is a mistake. This is a case of mistaken identity…" Dutch keeps a watchful eye on Ana, becoming nervous to see her in danger.

Dutch continues, beginning one of his speeches. "What is worse than admonishing a man, for the sins of another… who wants to be the Messiah?"

Before any of them have a chance to kill John, Ana or Strauss, Arthur shoots them down, he almost makes it seem easy as each of the bodies drops.

I fall to the ground as the dead man drops behind me, ignoring the ringing in my ears as I reach for my gun and get into cover. Dutch runs to my side, quickly checking me for any sign of harm.

"I'm fine!" I shout over gunfire, not wanting to waste our time. Dutch nods before moving to cover up ahead. "Push up! Stay with me!"

A bullet flies by my head as I follow his lead, I aim and shoot down the man who nearly killed me. We run to the main street, I keep my hands steady around my gun, shooting anyone that I see aiming at us.

"We're going right towards them!" shouts a panicked Strauss.

"We don't run away from a fight Mr Strauss," Dutch responds, shooting a man between the eyes as he speaks.

I'm about to pull back Strauss, who is standing in the open until a bullet hits him in the leg, he falls down and yells out in pain.

"Strauss is down," yells John from behind me. He wastes no time picking up the wounded man and dropping him into a wagon.

"John and I will push the wagon, Arthur and Ana, you cover us!" Dutch says, waiting for them to get into position before they start pushing.

Ana reloads her gun, breathing slowly as she begins to focus. She ignores the banter of the men as she and Arthur shoot down every person in sight. Dutch looks up at her, he hasn't seen her shoot till now, he's never seen someone her age shoot that well since the day he met Arthur. She was a good shot, to say the least.

Dutch looks over the horses, thinking they need to get out of here before someone gets killed. "Let's get to the horses, Arthur you take Strauss!"

The five of them sprint to their horses, riding off as fast as they can. Ana knows they definitely can't stay in Valentine anymore.

A/N: Another chapter, enjoy! If I don't update tomorrow, Merry Christmas! Please let me know if you have any thoughts or ideas you'd like to share with me, I love to read reviews! I'm thinking of writing Ana as similar to Arthur throughout this, meaning she'll be more of a bad person at the start but change slowly. I really love the idea of having an OC that isn't perfect, let me know if you like that idea!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	7. Chapter 7

Anastasia grips her horse's reins tightly, ignoring the feeling of her sweaty palms. Arthur, Dutch, John and she ride in unison, each mount becoming one at this moment. The sounds of their heavy breathing and galloping are background noise as Strauss moans in pain. Ana can't help but roll her eyes, wondering if the man has ever taken a bullet before.

"Would you shut up Strauss? You're lucky you weren't shot in the head," John snickers despite the circumstances, looking back at the wounded man as he speaks. He shares a smile with Ana, feeling satisfaction at her enjoyment of his joke.

"This ain't no time to fool around. We need to get back to camp and get the hell out of here. Those fools will come looking for us in no time…" Dutch says with a serious expression, looking over to Arthur before he continues. "Micah mentioned he knows a good spot to lay low somewhere near Rhodes? How about you and Charles check it out when we get back?"

Arthur grimaces when Micah is mentioned but nevertheless follows his leader without question, "Yeah we'll go check it out." He pauses, doubt present in his eyes, "This is real bad, them Pinkertons… it seems like this world don't want folk like us no more."

Ana watches as Dutch tenses, wondering how he can be so easily agitated by Arthur's words. She speaks up before Dutch has the chance, "Trust Dutch, Arthur. Those men back there, they're fighting for money," she points back to the town before redirecting her finger to point at herself, "we're fighting for freedom, which one would you fight harder for? For me there ain't no question, I've always fought for my freedom first, money has always come second."

Arthur stares at her with wide eyes, his lips parted slightly. He feels completely baffled at her words, he swears Dutch has said those exact words before. No wonder Dutch likes the girl, she's exactly like him. He thinks back to when he first met Dutch, smiling at the memory that reflects the lady next to him.

"That was… well-spoken, Miss. I don't think I could have said it better myself actually," says Dutch, looking back at the young woman. Her charisma is intoxicating to him, he feels a hunger growing for her inside himself. One that is not just sexual but emotional, he tries to contain the feeling by biting down on his lip. Dutch feels relief at the sight of camp, they all slow down and jump off their horses.

"Everyone, we need to pack up our things and quickly! We're moving out, tonight," Dutch gives Charles and Arthur a nod as they head out to scout for a new camp. Hosea comes over quickly, desperately seeking a reason why they need to leave tonight.

…

I lift my chest up into the wagon, glancing back at the place where my tent once stood. I'll miss this spot, it became home in a short amount of time, but I guess my home is wherever the gang is now. I let out a sigh, I can't help but feel exhausted after today's events. But I trust Dutch, he'll keep us safe, I know it. My thoughts come to a stop when a raspy voice addresses me.

"Ana, you got a minute?" John asks, seeming a bit anxious like he had thoroughly planned each word he spoke.

"Sure thing John, what can I do for you?" I turn around to face him, leaning against the side of the wagon as I light up my cigarette.

"What I said before… about you and Dutch, I-I guess I meant it, but look, that don't mean I'm sweet on you, maybe I just…" he sighs seeming angry at himself for not being able to find the right words, I step in, hoping it helps.

"Hey, don't you worry, but, what about Abigail? I thought you two was married?" I blow smoke from my lips, awaiting his response patiently.

"We ain't married… and the bo- I mean Jack, he's not mine, you know. She was with a lot of men before me. But none of this matters anyway, you're with Dutch."

I pause, not knowing what to say for a moment. He's right, I am with Dutch, but I don't think things are exactly exclusive… I've never been too keen on the concept of commitment, I doubt Dutch is either considering what's been going on between us.

"Maybe," I look over to Dutch who is approaching me, obviously with a plan in mind, "come find me later, we'll talk." John looks shocked before he walks away, that was probably the last response he expected from her, but it thrilled him to no end.

"Miss Fetcher, how would you like to ride in the private coach with me? Usually, Molly takes it… but I figured we could use the time to discuss personal matters." I smile at Dutch's smooth words, he really does know just how to get to a woman's heart and… well, you know what. I take his hand as he guides me inside, the caravan gets moving, staying close to each other as we travel to our new home.

I look out the window, it's practically pitch-black outside. Dutch pulls down the blinds from each window, blocking out the moonlight. We're completely alone in the dark.

"So, tell me, what are these personal matters we need to discuss?" I ask Dutch with a mischievous smile, he shakes his head with a soft smirk in return. He takes off his hat, I look at him with questioning eyes.

"I'm done playing these games, Ana. It's fun, don't get me wrong, but I want to have you, right here, right now."

I stare back at Dutch for a moment, feeling every part of me tingle with desire at his demanding tone. I'm done with these games too. He understands my response through my body language. Dutch moves over to the seat next to me, ripping off my clothes in a hasty manner, I reach over to him, pulling at the buttons of his vest. Before I can even process the fact that I'm naked, he lays me down, placing his head between my legs. I fight with all of my strength to stay quiet as Dutch makes love to me. The sounds of him groaning and moaning in my ear is one I'd love to remember for the rest of my days.

Half an hour later…

Dutch tosses me my dress, I put it back on, trying to calm my breathing. Sweat is dripping down my neck, I look over to Dutch, who appears to be in a similar state. We take a moment to look at one another and laugh gently. God, what a man he is, I'm lucky.

"Ana, that was…" he lifts his hand to my cheek, I lean into it, "perfect, you're just the kind of woman I need around."

I blush, hoping it's not noticeable in the dark. He drops his hand and I look out the window, hoping no one heard the passion we shared. It's unlikely anyone did considering how loud all the wagons are together. The only one who might've eavesdropped is Hosea, but his hearing isn't as good as it once was, according to Dutch.

Dutch notices my contemplative expression and seems to develop one of his own. There's a conversation we've both been avoiding. Hell, there's one I've been delaying with myself as well. What about John. And Molly and Abigail? I've gotten myself into more than just a love triangle here.

I decide that it's time to express my concern since Dutch isn't very fond of confrontation when it has to do with who he's sleeping with. "Dutch, what's going to happen next? Molly won't like this, you saw how she reacted before and that was without evidence…" I try to sound confident but it's becoming more difficult when I picture the beautiful Irish woman.

"I… can't leave her Ana, I'm sorry. She left everything behind for me, it wouldn't be right," Dutch stares down at his own hands. I have to admit, that hurt more than I expected. I'm still processing his words when he continues, "but I think you know that it isn't exclusive between Molly and me, she'll just have to deal with us."

I lick my lips quickly and push back my hair with both my hands. Is this what I want? To be the other woman? Honestly, it doesn't sound too awful. I'd be free of commitment. This is the outlaw way, after all. I lift my head up high, embracing the sensation of liberation as I nod, I don't need to be jealous anymore. This is who I am.

"Okay Dutch," I take his hand in my own, he looks surprised, whenever he had more than one lover in the past it never went like this, one would always leave him. "I can live like that, but that's got to mean I'm free to be with another man. It's fair that way, right?"

Dutch pauses, not exactly loving the idea of his woman being with anyone besides him, but he nods in agreement anyways. Assuming she's only asking this of him to make herself feel better about the dynamics of their new relationship.

The wagon comes to a sudden stop, they've arrived at their new home.

One week later…

Water caresses my bare feet, I shuffle further back onto a rock I'm sitting on. Dutch stands not so far behind me, taking in the view of the lake. It's become a routine of ours, to walk on the shoreline and talk or just be in each other's company. We share a love of silence. He rests a hand on my back, slowly moving my hair out of the way. His hand digs into my muscles, I sigh at the relief it provides to my sore shoulder. I spent most of the morning out hunting with Arthur, a bow sure does take a lot more strength than a gun.

I feel him leave my presence as someone approaches, I close my eyes, taking a moment to rest. I decide on ignoring the conversation between Arthur and Dutch until it becomes hard to dismiss.

"We have lofty goals, Arthur. We're trying to reform society to a kinder, truer, better way. Now, of course, there's going to be casualties." I don't even have to look at Dutch to know he's moving his hands as he speaks.

I walk over to the pair, listening as I stop and rest a hand on my hip. "We're thieves… in a world that don't want us no more…"

"When has this world ever wanted thieves, Arthur? The only reason we exist is because we decide to keep on living this life," I say, trying to reassure him.

"We're dreamers in an ever-duller world of facts, now I'll give you that, but come on, we got the day, it's nice out. Hosea says there's a creek around here," he motions for Arthur and me to follow, I put my hand up, kindly rejecting the offer.

"You boys go have fun! I've had my share of killing nature's creatures today," I smile as I wave goodbye to the men, returning to my tent. I take a seat on the ground with a book in hand, leaning back on a barrel as I read.

…

John admires Anastasia from afar, her red blouse is hard to miss. They hadn't found time to talk since they'd set up their new camp. Everyone's been busy trying to find work in town. Now was as good a time as any, he thought.

He itches his neck as he makes his way over to her, taking a look at his unbuttoned shirt and dirty pants. John never had trouble finding a lady in the past, but the fact that she was with Dutch meant something. Dutch always chose the finest ladies to help keep him company.

He glances at Abigail, who looks back but quickly returns her attention to Jack. She loved John once, but now all she wants is for him to be a proper father. The idea of doing so scared John shitless. He didn't want to end up like his own pa. He pushes every thought aside once he's in front of Ana.

She notices him and smiles. "John, good to see you. I've been meaning to come and find you."

John returns her friendly attitude with a nod. "Don't worry, I'm here now, ain't I?" he puts his hands on his belt, "you busy? I was thinking I might go into town, get a few beers and something decent to eat for once."

"Colour me impressed, Marston. I thought you was the kind of man that eats whatever's put in front of him without complaining!" The two of them laugh as John helps her up, they head into town with smiles on their faces.

…

"You're afraid of the water, you've got to be kidding me, John!" I laugh hysterically at the cowboy's ultimate fear, wiping away a tear as John shakes his head, blushing like a boy.

"Come on, it ain't so bad! People die all the time from drowning, can you blame me for being afraid?" he motions to himself with a grin before downing the rest of his beer.

"Maybe you're right… hell, I used to be afraid of, um, spiders if that makes you feel any better," John jokingly rolls his eyes at my teasing tone.

We pause, looking outside to see a pink sunset, admiring the sight for a few seconds. "Thanks for coming with me, Ana. It's nice to get away from, well, all that."

"Things have been rough lately, but we'll get through it, you know."

Another moment of silence, this one is a bit more uncomfortable. I decide on letting him be the one to make the next move. He reaches across the table and takes my hand, brushing his thumb against my skin softly.

"Is that okay?" John asks sweetly. He sure is a romantic.

"It is, Marston," I lean over and plant my lips on his, he smells different than Dutch like he has his own unique scent.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the holidays, I really loved writing this chapter. The love triangle or whatever you call it is really starting up now. I'm trying to make Ana's relationship with John and Dutch really different. Dutch's is one of passion, lust and power and John's more focused on affection, simplicity and child-like romance. Also just so you know, in this story Abigail doesn't have as strong feelings for John as she does in the game.

I'd like to welcome all the new readers since there's been a lot lately, please send in more reviews everyone!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR


	8. Chapter 8

Rhodes is truly a dreadful town. I always hated the south, I came down here a while ago and did some robbing at the local saloon. Some man from a supposedly wealthy family who could "ruin" my life said I should leave before he reported me to the law. That was after I stole every cent out of his pocket, unfortunately, he noticed. I was sloppy back then, thieving takes practice, I know that now. My eyes inspect every face John and I pass by, I hope no one recognizes me, I'll need to be careful.

John seems to share my distaste for this town. From what I remember most folks here used to be in the slavery business, makes me hate it here even more. "Don't like it here either?" John asks, curiosity in his eyes. "Hate it. Bunch of ex-slaveowners. And this air, it's so humid I can hardly breathe." John nods in agreement, "I know what you mean, I don't get why Dutch brought us here, all of the places. I wish we was back in the west." I pause to think, why did Dutch bring us here? The further into civilization we get the easier those Pinkertons will be able to catch up with us. I stop myself from doubting our fearless leader by changing the topic.

"At least the food ain't so bad." I hit John playfully, we share a blissful smile. He's got such a great smile, it hits me right in the heart every time. I expect falling for two men within the same gang will eventually be the end of me, they're so different without truly realizing it, I'll likely be pulled between them. Maybe. It's hard to tell what the future holds, this could work. I want this more than anything these days. It's funny to say that considering a year ago I swore I'd never let a man hurt me again… after him, but to now be caring for John and Dutch, I must be insane.

"You've got mighty fine taste for a lowlife, Ana." John wheezes, finding himself to be rather humorous, I roll my eyes. "Who are you calling a lowlife Marston? Last time I checked you ain't taken a bath since… wait have you ever taken a bath? Must be all that water, right?" I say with a sarcastic tone. John gives me a look as we stop by the side of the general store, he leans on a wall and lights a cigarette. "I've always been ugly, Ana. No bath is going to change that." He blows smoke from his lips as he tilts his head to the right. I walk over to him, leaning against the same wall as him. He moves his arm above my head, leaning on his forearm now. I steal the cigarette from his mouth and inhale.

"You're the further thing I've seen from ugly, Marston. From where I'm standing, you ain't so bad. And those scars, they suit you." John blushes, it's endearing as always. He pushes back a loose strand of hair from my face and kisses my forehead. "I'll take that as a compliment coming from you, Fetcher."

We start to head towards our horses until a wanted poster catches my eye. That face, I know that fucking face. It's him, who else could it be? Of course he changed his name, but I could never forget him, he's been burned into my brain ever since my mom gave me the only picture she had of him. My father.

I dart towards the poster and rip it off from the wall, holding the crinkled paper in my trembling hands. I feel a cold shiver run down my spine as I read the text.

 _William Johnson. Wanted dead or alive for theft, murder and assault. $500 reward. See Sheriff Gray for more information._

William Johnson? How original. Must be a thousand William Johnsons in the state of Lemoyne alone. I feel John's calloused hand on my shoulder, was he saying something? I could hardly focus on anything but this poster.

"Ana, you alright? You know that feller or something?" John asks, probably thinking I'm crazy for switching moods all of a sudden. I let out a long sigh through my nostrils and turn to face him.

"This man…. I-I know him, h-he's my father, I'm sure of it." I hand over the poster to John, he takes a long look at it, his eyes look back and forth between me and the image. "He sort of looks like you, in a way." I shake my head, wishing I didn't resemble such a cruel man. "I thought he was dead, don't know why. That's just what ma told me all them years after he left. After I was born, he beat up my mom, took all our money and left with some prostitute. Ten dollars and fifteen cents he nearly killed her for," I don't fight the tears that blur my vision, they begin to roll down my cheeks, "I ain't thought about him for years but I hate him, Marston, never hated someone so much." John pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back with his hands. My tears stain his shirt with salty water.

"I'm real sorry to hear that, Ana. You don't deserve that, nobody does. But you turned out just fine, right? No reason to think about him. My pa, he was bad, like yours. I know what it's like." John says as he backs out of the hug, grasping my shoulders as he tries to reassure me. I suppose he's right, I just want to forget about that part of my life. Feels like the past is starting to catch up with me, mom always said you can't run away from your problems forever, sooner or later you got to face them, and they'll either break you or make you stronger depending on the kind of person you are. I look up at John and nod, giving him a fake smile, I shove the poster in my satchel. Might come in handy someday.

"You're right, just feeling a bit shocked. Let's just forget about this and head back to camp, okay? I'm fine, I promise." I say hoping John doesn't see through my act. He hesitates but nods in agreement, following my lead back to our horses. God, do I need to get my mind off this before I go insane.

…

Anastasia enters Clemens Point with an emotionless expression. She observes the fire which lights up the calm faces of her companions, she joins them for dinner with a bowl of meaty stew in her right hand. She listens in on banter, thinking that'll serve as an adequate distraction.

"Any of ya'll ever hear of pomade?" asks a skeptical Bill. Javier shrugs in return and looks over to Arthur, whose hair is slicked back at the moment.

"Don't look at me, this is just because I ain't washed in a week," says Arthur, everyone giving him a look of disgust despite most of them not being particularly clean themselves.

"Hey, don't you go on judging the poor man, I think Bill's got a bird's nest under that hat!" says Anastasia in a teasing manner, nudging Bill with her elbow to let him know she's laughing with him, not at him. Everyone joins in on her amusement with a laugh, including Bill who usually would've stormed off or thrown a punch.

"To answer your question Bill, they've got some at the general store. Maybe I'll pick some up for you if you're nice," says Charles. He's always been the nicest one here.

Anastasia thanks Pearson for dinner before retreating to her tent, desperate for some rest. On her way there, she's stopped by the beautiful mother with black hair.

"Ana, can we talk?" asks Abigail. Ana looks over to her, wondering if she should prepare to defend herself, but she doubts she'll have to. Abigail has always proven herself a fairly reasonable person, hopefully, that won't change.

"Sure thing Miss Roberts, what is it?" responds Ana, the two of them walk to the side of the camp without saying anything. Neither of them wants anyone eavesdropping. "I know about you and John. Before you start making up excuses or lies, I want you to know it's fine. We ain't been together since the boy was born," Ana can't help but tense up a little, the last thing she wants to do is steal a father from his son, Abigail continues, "I won't get in the way of you two if you promise me one thing. Don't keep him from being Jack's father, that's all I ask. If you do, you'd best leave and never come back. That boy is my world and I'm doing my best to give him a better life than this."

Ana nods slowly, looking at the ground. She feels nothing but respect for Abigail. "I understand, Abigail. Jack deserves a better life and a dad who loves him as much as his mother does. I won't keep John away from his son, you have my word." The two strong women exchange a handshake, they trust each other. They both share the belief that women need to have each other's back in a man's world.

Anastasia continues on to her tent, entering while avoiding interaction with anyone else. She begins to remove her clothing when Dutch slips inside quietly. He sneaks up behind her and covers her eyes, she gasps.

"Hand over every cent you've got ma'am," says Dutch in a mockery of intimidation, letting out a soft chuckle before he releases her.

"Now what is a man like you doing sneaking into a young lady's personal quarters while she's changing? Have you no sense of decency sir?" Ana says with a mischievous smile.

Dutch grabs her forcefully by the waist, his hands exploring her body as plants his lips on her neck. She sighs at the ticklish feeling of his facial hair. How she would love to give into Dutch right now, but she doesn't want to become another one of his toys. She peels his hands off herself and takes a step back. "Not now, love. Come lay with me." She guides him into bed with her hand, they lay down under the covers, his hand on her shoulder and her head on his chest. He twirls a strand of her hair around his finger.

"I missed you today," says a sleepy Dutch, his voice muffled as he kisses the top of her head. Ana looks up to him, tracing circles on his partially exposed chest with her fingers. "And I you, Dutch."

They lay like that for hours, exchanging stories about their day. Ana laughed at how ironic it is that Dutch plans on working for the law in Rhodes, hiding in plain sight he called it. She listens carefully to his plan of robbing two families that hate each other's guts. Ana explains her history with this town and asks to stay on the sidelines for this scheme, Dutch agrees that it would be wise to avoid anyone recognizing her. She tells him about the bounty poster and the father she tried so hard to forget about, Dutch holds her close and wipes away her tears. They fall asleep comfortably, their bodies moulding to one another's shape.

…

I'm awakened by sunshine making its way through a rip in my tent, I've been meaning to patch that up, but I hadn't gotten around to it just yet. I rub my eyes, looking at the empty spot where Dutch had slept that night, I take in the lingering scent of him with a lazy smile. With a groan and weak arms, I manage to push myself out of bed. I change into my red dress and throw on a blazer style coat since it doesn't feel as hot as usual today, I take my hair out of a braid and let my long waves rest on my back.

Like every other morning, a small group stands around the fire, sipping on cups of coffee. I join them, sipping on the bitter liquid that brings me back to life after a deep sleep. "How you doing Mrs Adler?" I ask the blond woman, admiring the new clothes which seem to suit her. "I'm doing alright Ana, thanks," she answers with a smile. I'm glad to see her mood improving, she was in mourning of her husband for a while. She hardly spoke to anyone for weeks.

I look over to see Bill, Arthur, Karen, and Lenny gathered in front of a wagon. Bills motions for me to go over there. I throw out the rest of my coffee and join the group.

"Ana, we're hitting the bank back in Valentine, you want in?" asks Bill. I look over to Arthur who seems convinced on the idea.

"Sure, why not, I guess we never got around to doing it since we shot up the whole damn town," I say with a shrug.

Arthur gives me a look before speaking up. "That wasn't our fault. It was just one of them things!"

Bill shakes his head and throws up his arms. "How come every time I get in trouble, I'm called a fool and an idiot, but when you get in trouble 'oh it's just one of them things?!' " Everyone besides Arthur casually nods in agreement.

"I mean he's got a point, Arthur," says Lenny, the young man seeming pretty comfortable with stating his opinion.

Karen rolls her eyes, "would you fools hurry up? We can chat on the damn way!"

And with that, the five of us mount our horses and ride back to a town I didn't think I'd return to a long time.

…

The air in Valentine is fresh. I wish we could've stayed here longer, could've made a lot more money if we hadn't nearly killed half the town. I look to Arthur and Karen on my left side, they're tense as we walk down the street, trying our best to act natural.

"Okay, get ready..." mumbles Arthur, the most experienced of us.

I start to feel the panic rise in my chest. I've robbed hundreds of men and even a damn train, yet I still get nervous before a robbery. Maybe practice really does count at this point in my career as a thief. Well, a thief and a murderer now. Karen notices my anxious expression and pretends to reassure everyone but she's obviously speaking to me. "Alright, keep it cool and follow me fellers. We'll be fine."

We continue to the front of the bank before Karen stops everyone. "So, we never decided, is it the lost little girl you want or the drunken harlot?" asks Karen, pretending to slur her last two words. Arthur scratches his beard, taking only a moment to decide what act Karen would put on. "Uh… I think I'd like to see the lost little girl for once." Karen smirks before teasing the man a bit older than herself, "So even you long to save the fallen women, eh Arthur? You break my heart… you really do," Karen says with a fake sob before she walks into the front entrance of the bank.

Arthur, Bill, Lenny and I pull up our bandanas and subtly get in position. Waiting for the right moment to burst through the door. I listen in through the door.

"But I'm ruined! I'm ruined! He said he loved me! He said he'd make a lady of me! I'm with child… I don't want to go back to the workhouse…" yells Karen through a series of fake sobs and whining. I try not to laugh, she's a pretty good actress. Arthur holds up his hand, waiting for Karen to get them reeled in before we make our move.

"Get your goddamn hands up!" she yells, Arthur drops his hand and shouts "Alright… now go!" Lenny and Bill shove the door open hard, we follow, pointing our guns at whoever's inside. I knock out a man by hitting him hard in the skull. I decide to keep watch as Arthur raids the vault. "Gentlemen, this is a robbery! I suggest you get down on the ground before I blow your goddamn heads off!" I shout, doing my best to sound scary.

"Here, unlock the door!" shouts Lenny as he tosses a key to Karen who opens up the gate to the vault. I overhear Arthur shoving the teller as he threatens him in order to get access to the vault. Lenny and I exchange an uneasy look but say nothing as we continue keeping our guns aimed at the civilians.

"I'm in! Someone come here and make sure this suit behaves himself!" yells Arthur. Bill looks at me as if he's about to ask me to go until he remembers he's a lot bigger and a lot scarier than me and runs back to help Arthur.

Lenny, Karen and I wait with sweaty palms locked on our guns. I spot a man who's trying to peak out the window, "You sir, move that head again and you can kiss your life goodbye!" I say with a gun pointed at him. "How much time you think we got?" asks Karen, looking at me then Lenny. "I don't know… this is taking too long. Hurry up back there! There's people out there!" he shouts in Arthur's direction.

We wait a few more minutes in silence before Arthur and Bill emerge with bags of cash. I look outside to see lawmen gathered with guns, waiting for us to come out. "Come out now! Shoot and you're all dead!" exclaims the one with a golden badge. Arthur looks like he's about to think of a plan until I come up with a crazy but fast solution. "I'll go out there, get things started, when the shooting starts, keep your heads down." I walk out without waiting to hear anyone's objection.

I stand in front of several armed men with my hands up, trying to seem like I've made a terrible mistake. "Please help me! This is all a mistake, I ain't done nothing…" I say with a pleading tone; the men seem to let their guard down a bit. Now is the time to act. I raise my gun and shoot two them in the head, watching their blood splatter the stairs to the saloon before I take cover with everyone else.

"Looks like we're shooting our way out of here!" shouts Karen over the sound of gunfire. We move quickly, shooting down those who challenge us on our way to the horses. It doesn't take long for us to get to them. We mount them and ride as fast as we can out of Valentine, shooting and eventually outrunning the men who follow us. The take looks real good judging from the size of Arthur's bags. One thing I know for sure, the Van der Linde gang is never coming back to Valentine.

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I'm really interested in what people think of the fic right now. Please, please review! Feedback is super helpful. It's sort of difficult to write without knowing what my audience likes or doesn't like so please let me know! Thank you to everyone for reading :) I'm gonna go play some Read Dead and be sad lol.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	9. Chapter 9

Anastasia sits on a deteriorating log that rests amongst wet sand. It's a cold night, she's done up her baby blue blouse. Things were good, they brought back a lot of money from the bank in Valentine. Dutch was pleased, pleased enough that he came crawling into her tent last night. Despite being in his early 40s, his capacity to be pleasured was insatiable. Sure, the two of them didn't take long to figure out that they liked each other, but something more than that was developing, even though neither of them is aware. The nights they spend together bring them physically and mentally closer. Dutch opened up about his mother to Ana, he told her how she used to beat him as a child, how she was insane and stubborn to her core. Ana listened with bated breath as Dutch confessed he wished his mother hadn't lived as long as she did. He claimed her death was god showing her mercy at the end of her dreadful life.

And then there was John. Their relationship differed quite a bit from the one between her and the notorious leader. They haven't even slept together yet. Ana figured that he's holding onto his last bit of pride, considering how close they'd come to sex several times now. It's a funny thing, a man's pride, it can be so resilient until it comes crashing down in one moment, Ana thought to herself while contemplating her relationships. Or maybe it breaks down over time, like the log she's sitting on now. It once stood tall but now is a shell of its former self. She prays that won't happen to John or Dutch. They're good men, she hopes she doesn't turn them into something else. Right there and then, Ana made a promise to herself, that she'll do anything to help keep them on the right path, even if she has to die for it. They deserve better than the life they were given.

Ana takes a long breath before she stands, lifting the wanted poster with her father on it out from her bag, along with a carton of matches. She lights it on fire and drops it to the ground, watching it burn. If her father was out there, she figured there's no point in chasing him. Fate will bring them together if that's what's meant to be. Her moment of self-reflection ends when Arthur joins her side, wanting to provide some friendly company to the girl seeking solitude. The thing about Arthur, he knew when he was wanted. He was never one to hover.

"Let me guess, you're out here, looking at the lake and burning something, so you can try and figure out how to solve the world's problems. Am I right?" he asks like his typical sarcastic self.

Ana stays silent for a moment, staring at him for a long time. She squints her eyes, playfully challenging her friend. Arthur puts his hands up and backs away in defeat until she suddenly bursts into a sprint, tackling his side and jokingly hitting his stomach. He starts laughing hard as he tries to mess up her hair with his hands. "No way I'm letting you win this girl!" Arthur says joyfully. He tosses her easily over his shoulder, she starts squirming and hitting his back, pretending to scream in fear as tears caused by laughter blur her sight. The rest of the gang watch from the edge of camp with amused looks on their faces. "Arthur no! Not the lake, anything but the lake. I'll shine them fancy-looking boots of yours for a month!" she shouts, her cheeks red as Arthur moves to the end of the dock. "Aw did you just call my boots fancy? Now you ain't getting out of this for sure." And with that, Arthur tosses a screaming Ana into the water. She holds her breath and stays down for a few seconds, thinking it'll cause Arthur to look into the water to make sure she doesn't drown. She bursts out from the surface and grabs Arthur by his collar, causing him to lose his balance and fall in with her. Ana grins at the sound of Dutch laughing. Moments later, a beaming Arthur and Ana splash one another playfully, Lenny, Sean and Javier kick off their boots and join in on the water fight. Bill follows and does a rather impressive cannonball. Everyone is content at that moment, even an angry-looking Molly can't spoil their fun. Although that doesn't stop her from mumbling insults to herself. During moments like this, Ana knows she still has a family.

…

Ana dries herself with a blanket in front of the campfire, John next to her along with Javier, Bill, Arthur, and Sean who surround the flames. They exchange small talk as they watch how the fire dances. Sipping on beers and whiskey to loosen their tongues and forget their worries. John shifts closer to Ana, just tipsy enough to not care who sees. She leans into him as he rubs her shoulders quickly, causing friction to keep her warm without being asked to. It's a fairly innocent act, but it's an affectionate one. It catches the attention of Molly, who stomps over to Dutch instantly to tell him about what she saw. She's gone before John plants a kiss on Ana's lips.

Arthur pretends to gag before sharing a silent boyish giggle with the rest of the boys and Ana. "Careful Arthur. One day you'll do that and actually vomit," says Ana with fake lecturing eyes. "Yeah. Maybe. I'll just make sure I'm aiming for you." Everyone simultaneously laughs, not aware of Dutch who is walking in a rage towards John and Ana. He firmly grips Ana's shoulder, burning his eyes into hers as a way of saying that they need to talk, now. Dutch looks over to a confused John. "Son, I don't want to hurt you. I suggest you get out of camp for the night. You can come back in the morning," Dutch says while resisting the urge to punch that look off his face. John looks to Ana before uneasily leaving the tense scene about to take place. The rest of the guys watch, unsure of what to do. Ana stares at Dutch, wondering what could have pissed him off that much. She nods to Arthur before walking with Dutch to the beach. He doesn't let go of her shoulder until they stop. Her fingers graze where he held her, wondering if that was truly necessary.

"What is it, Dutch?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head to the left.

Dutch walks back and forth for a moment, not looking at her while he does so. He stops right in front of her and points an accusing finger at her. "You'd best tell me the truth now, Miss. I don't got a soft spot for liars. Tell me, have you been whoring yourself out to my brothers?!" His voice cracks, his head turning a shade of beet red as he yells in her face.

"What? Whoring myself out? The fuck is you talking about, Dutch?" Ana's hands drop to her sides, anger rising in her chest. She looks back at camp, knowing exactly who put such an idea in his head. Molly. She must've been dying for this opportunity.

"Don't play dumb. Molly told me, and Micah said you threw yourself at him back in Horseshoe Overlook!" Dutch makes a fist, feeling unconvinced by her confusion. She must be lying, she's been lying to him since the day they met.

"Molly and Micah are liars, Dutch. Take a moment to really think about this. I'm not a whore. If I was, I'd be smart enough to know that Micah don't pay for such services. Why would I want to sleep with that parasite anyways?! Plus, you and me, we agreed that this ain't exclusive," she points between them, trying to de-escalate the situation, "the only other person I'm with is John, I swear to god. If that pisses you off, then that's your own dam fault van der Linde.

"That much I figured out by the way you two cling to each other like teenagers. It's pathetic really! You think he can give you what you want? He's a boy for fuck's sake, Ana!" Dutch raises his voice more, believing that even if she wasn't sleeping with the rest of the gang, it's disgraceful. John is a father and an idiot; couldn't have she at least have the respect to have chosen better?

"Oh, shut up, Dutch. Now you're just looking for a reason to be mad. If you don't like it, leave Molly!" Ana responds, annoyed with his irrational way of thinking. She throws an arm up in the air and starts to walk away. Dutch grabs her arm to try and stop her, she pulls away and keeps walking. Dutch hesitates, not wanting to admit he's wrong. He should've been smart enough not to listen to Molly, the girl lies to get what she wants. And Micah, well, he probably just imagined the whole thing. He follows Ana, calling after her softly, but not saying he's sorry. "J-just leave me be, Dutch! Go be with your other woman for once tonight!" she shouts as goes into her tent to hide from him, now speaking quietly to herself "see if I give a damn…" Ana presses two fingers against her forehead, trembling as she starts to sob quietly. That man, how could he treat her like this? She sits down on her mattress, wondering how and why she got herself into this mess.

Dutch sighs and shakes his head. Pushing off Molly's uncomforting touch and as she tries to pull him away. His eyes meet the shaking head of Hosea. "Dutch, you fool, you're getting too old for these games," says the older gentleman, feeling unimpressed by his actions. He needs to settle down, or just make a damn decision for once. He's been floating from woman to woman ever since Annabel. Anastasia is the first he appears to actually care for. Dutch ignores his friend, deciding to sleep his current mental state off.

Ana doesn't sleep well that night. She has a nightmare about her own funeral, years from now. Molly and Micah come to spit on her grave. John and Dutch are nowhere to be seen.

…

I gasp as I sit up straight, awakened by my nightmare. It got quite strange near the end, I came back to life as a dead woman, think I even killed some folk. Mom always said our dreams tell us how we feel, I guess that means I don't got the best opinion of myself. I begin to recall last night as I run my fingers through my hair, probably would've been better if I left with John… I don't know. Dutch would've been even more pissed if I ran off with him. Honestly, it'd be best if I just forget about it all. If that man wants to apologize, it's his own responsibility. I won't let him see me weakened, I'll have to go on with my usual routine and make it seem like I'm not hurting. Which shouldn't be so hard, I've always known how to seem fine on the outside, it came naturally to me. Although I might as well fake in style, I'll wear my best blue dress today. Remind Dutch what a fool he is sometimes. I walk out and do my morning stretch, deciding on going for a walk by the water, ignoring his stares on my way.

…

Micah, Arthur, Dutch, Pearson and Hosea gather around a table in camp, discussing the possibility of whether or not to go and make peace with Colm O'Driscoll and his men. The men know it's obviously a trap. Arthur looks skeptical of the whole thing while Micah is rather persistent that it's got to get done. Anastasia is sitting in front of a nearby tree with a cigarette between her lips, trying to hide the fact that she's listening in on this conversation by holding a book up to her face. Dutch avoids looking at her as a way of focusing on the matter at hand.

"It's a chance we got to take," says Micah passionately, Ana notes how out of character he seems. She trusts him less and less as each day goes by.

Dutch rests his fists on the table, pushing himself up before speaking "I killed Colm's brother… long time ago," he pauses, now looking over at Ana, "then he killed a woman I loved dear."

Micah leans forward, saying his next words carefully. "As you say… it's a long time ago, Dutch." Ana feels sick to her stomach, everything he says just feels so wrong to her.

"Let's go. You and me," Dutch points at Micah, "and with Arthur protecting us. No one else."

Micah pretends to look unsure all of a sudden, he glances at Ana intently. "I don't know, Dutch. Is Arthur enough? No offence, but the big guy is past his prime," Arthur is about to shut Micah down before he continues, "Why not bring along some new blood? I heard Anastasia is a good shot, come on, with Little A and Big A we'll be safe for sure!"

Arthur rolls his eyes at how stupid the blonde fool sounds as Dutch turns his head over to Ana, inviting her with a stern look. Dutch also takes a moment to examine his favourite dress of hers. He can't think about last night right now, they'll have to save that for later. Ana says nothing as she drops her book to the ground and gets up, joining the men as they head towards their horses. She figures that being there will allow her to truly understand what Micah's true intentions are. Arthur and she exchange an uneasy look, preparing for the worst.

…

Anastasia rides next to Arthur, with Dutch leading in front and Micah following him eagerly. Micah has been talking Dutch's ear off the whole way here. Ana stares at his greasy blonde hair, not believing one word of what he's saying. To her, it appears that Micah wants to move up in the unspoken ranks of Dutch's gang. Was he trying to replace Arthur? Hopefully not, Ana feels sick at the idea of him taking on such a significant role. He'll have to go through her if that's what his game is.

"I dream too big. Caring too much. That's my problem," says Micah. Ana has never rolled her eyes so hard. She subtly taps Arthur's shoulder and pretends to stick a finger down her throat. They share a quiet chuckle.

"Caring too much? There's no such thing," says a captivated Dutch.

Ana can't stand to hear this conversation anymore, she speaks up loudly, so the men can hear her. "You're joking right, Micah? This is coming from the man who kicked Jack's fucking dog, is that what you mean by caring too much?"

Micah audibly huffs and stares back at her. "The dog was getting into the food, what else is a man to do?"

"This is horseshit. From both of you!" says Arthur, obviously just as tired of this conversation as Ana.

"It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O'Driscoll might be full of shit. The promise of this great nation, men created equal, liberty and justice for all… that might be nonsense too. But it's worth trying for. It's worth believing in. Can't you see that friend?" asks Dutch, sounding like his usual inspirational self as he addresses the man he raised.

Arthur sighs, sounding frustrated, "I don't know…"

"Try. All I ask is you try," says Dutch.

They keep on riding until they reach a cliff that overlooks where the meeting will take place.

"Alright cowpoke. You find a spot around us where you can keep an eye on us. Arthur, you take the spot on the left. Lady, um… how about you head over to that hill on the right side of the plane," says Micah in an instructive tone. Neither Arthur nor Ana question his command since it's fairly reasonable. Ana moves quickly to the other side of the open land, stopping on a hill that's across from Arthur.

She takes her place, kneeling onto the dusty ground and lifting her rifle. She'd bought it back in Valentine but had hardly used it. The confident woman wasn't too worried, she never had to try that hard to hit her target. That was evident from when they fought with half the population of the livestock town. She closes one eye and watches Micah and Dutch get off their horses, walking steadily to meet Dutch's oldest enemy.

Colm is probably the most unpleasant man Ana's ever laid eyes on. He must be at least a decade older than Dutch. She aims the crosshair on his skull, feeling slightly tempted to take the shot although she doubts it'll be necessary at the moment. She watches the movement of their lips but can't understand what any of them are saying. Colm doesn't look happy despite what appears to be laughter… no, not laughter, it's mockery. Ana begins to worry, Dutch doesn't take too kindly to being mocked. She can't help but notice how calm her lover appears until he says something slowly, she thinks he might've said the name Annabel. This can't be good, she keeps her finger steady on the trigger. Ana pauses for a moment; her eyes leave the scope and look over to Arthur. Her eyes widen at the sight of a man running up behind Arthur and hitting him in the head, she's about to call out his name when she's smacked so hard in the head it knocks her out cold. Her body falls to the ground, blood dripping from her forehead.

…

Everything is so unclear. Where am I? Why can't I see right? It's blurry. I try to focus by squinting, I see trees, I'm in a forest. I listen to the sound of people talking, I don't recognize the voices, they sound Irish. Are they Colm's men? This isn't good, the last thing I remember was aiming at Colm O'Driscoll's head. The meeting must've gone badly, and they kidnapped me… if something happened to Dutch or Arthur, I'll kill every one of these bastards. God, my body hurts so much, I turn my head to the person laying not so far from me. Arthur. They got us both.

I reach over to him, he's awake. Our eyes meet, I've never seen him look afraid, but he does right now. I mouth instructions to him slowly, "Go get help." Arthur is about to object, he knows I can't move, they tied me up. I don't know why they hadn't done the same to him, fools must've forgotten. I motion my head in the direction away from the camp, Arthur reluctantly gets up, moving as fast as he can considering his injuries. I hear shouting and then a gunshot, tears fall from eyes as I scream Arthur's name. One of the men approaches me, "You stupid bitch" are the last words I hear before I'm struck in the head once again.

…

Arthur's and Ana's limp bodies hang from the back of two horses. They're both going in and out of consciousness, wishing they were dead whenever they awoke. Arthur moans in pain each time his eyes open, they shot him in the leg and shoulder. Luckily Ana's injuries weren't as bad, she felt so guilty, if she hadn't told him to go, he wouldn't have been shot. When she awakes, she begins to cry, mourning for the inevitable loss of her own life and Arthur's. She'll be leaving behind so much unfinished business; Dutch, John, her father, Micah, and her future. And Arthur, the man deserves so much better than this, after all those years. At one point, Arthur notices her silent sobs and weakly grabs her hand, not judging her for breaking down.

It took about half a day to arrive at the O'Driscoll camp. The men store their prisoners in a small underground room. They hang Arthur up by his feet and use built-in chains connected to the wall on Ana, assuming she's less of a threat than him.

…

I lean my head against the cold stone wall, tear pricking at my eyes whenever I glance at Arthur, who has been passed out for at least four hours. I hope he wakes up soon, we need to find a way out of here before they kill us both. I heard two guards gossiping before, it doesn't sound like we're getting a peaceful death. Supposedly Colm plans on beating or burning us to death. How cheery. I hear the door creak open and I hold my breath. Colm appears with a torch and a plate, I look over to Arthur who seems to be waking up.

"Arthur Morgan and Ana Fetcher… good to see you, Arthur. I don't think we've met before, Miss" says Colm cruelly.

What do I say? I can't talk my way out of this. I build up the courage to say one word, "No."

Arthur speaks through the sound of exhausted coughs, "Hello, Colm." He still sounds strong, he's a tough man, that's for sure.

"How's the wound?" asks Colm, about to give Arthur a spoonful of food before he pulls away.

"I hardly feel it," he answers. I shut my eyes as he yells out in pain, I've got to get him out of here before he dies.

"You will… now tell me, a fine gun like you, why you still running with old Dutch? You could come ride with me and make real money," says Colm, he doesn't seem as interested in me, at least for now. I need to stay strong for Arthur, so I'll stay quiet.

"It ain't about the money, Colm," Arthur says faintly.

"Oh no… it's Dutch's famous charisma," I flinch as I hear Arthur cry out when Colm kicks him hard in the side, "you killed a bunch of my boys at Six Point Cabin…"

I can't take this anymore. Colm is about to continue beating Arthur when I shout as loud as I can, "Stop it!"

He turns to me, an evil grin on his face. "Ah yes, nearly forgot you were there, where are my manners? Dutch's new lady, right? He's going to be angry, I hear he likes you a lot. He'll come for you and Arthur. We'll be gone, and the law will be waiting for him. How does that sound to that sound to you, pretty lady?"

I spit at him; his grin turns into an expression of anger. He pulls back his hand and slaps me. I wince at the sting. "Well, I suppose we'd better give you a good injury or two, can't be playing favourites!" he says as he laughs.

I can't say or do anything as he lifts his gun and points it at me. I start to tremble as he aims for my head, he stays there a moment before shifting his aim to my shoulder. I feel like a child, so defenseless and weak. I shut my eyes, awaiting the impact. I scream out as the bullet goes through me, Arthur calls out for me, asking me to stay with him as Colm walks out the door, leaving us to die.

…

I gasp when I wake up before crying out in pain when I remember I was shot. What in the hell happened? I look at a pair of dirty hands that hold onto my waist loosely, I know those hands. "A-Arthur?" he groans before whispering a response, "Y-you're alive. I got us out, we're going home, sister." I let out a sob, feeling free since there's no O'Driscoll to punish me for making a sound. "Thank you, brother. Thank you so much." I let my head drop down, not having the energy to look up or speak. We made it, we're alive. I'll never be able to repay this man for saving me. I shut my eyes, at the pace we're going this trip will take a while.

…

Anastasia and Arthur arrive at camp, Ana resting her head on the horse's neck and Arthur leaning on her back. Ana is the one to open her eyes, she tries her best to call out, but nothing but a wince leaves her throat. She's close to bleeding out, so is Arthur. His large body falls to the floor. His grunt is what catches the attention of Mary-Beth and Karen.

"Arthur? Ana?" says the girl with brown hair. Dutch comes running calling the names of the two who mean so much to him, trying to remain calm until he assesses what happened.

Ana is next to fall but a pair of arms catch her. Surprisingly, John is the face that she looks up to. Dutch is occupied with calling Miss Grimshaw and Reverend Swanson for help.

"Marston?" she asks, trying to figure out if she's truly awake and not dreaming.

"I got you, Fetcher. You'll be okay," John responds, running to lay her down on her mattress.

Dutch looks conflicted as he helps Arthur up, he doesn't know what to do or who to help first. Once he ensures Arthur is being attended to, he runs to Ana's side.

"My girl…oh my dear girl. I'm so sorry, please stay with me…" Dutch pleads as he kneels next to her, taking her hand, John standing out of his leader's way.

"Oh, Dutch, I'm fine, love," she chuckles before whimpering, the pain taking over again.

"Damn someone get over here now and save this girl before she bleeds out!" shouts John. Abigail comes running with supplies. Dutch hesitates before stepping back, letting his lover be attended to. Guilt starts to weigh him down, he feels so foolish. He wanted to go for them right away, but Micah insisted they needed to wait and come up with a plan so Colm didn't kill them all. Dutch held his chin in his hand, overseeing Ana's medical attention. He felt the need to shed a few tears for the first time in a decade. He fought the impulse with every fibre of his being to stay strong.

A/N: New chapter! And the longest one so far! Sorry it took so long to get this one out, but I had a bit of writer's block plus this took a couple of days to write to be honest. But I'm satisfied with the outcome and I hope everyone else is!

I'm starting to think more long-term about this fic and I'd like to get everyone's input. I won't be covering the entire story, but I think I'd like it to end near the end of the Saint Denis chapter of the game? I'll be adding a bunch of original content to the story for sure, so it'll be probably almost thirty chapters in total. But here is a question for my readers:

Should Arthur die in this fic? I'm letting you guys decide so let me know! Now if Ana is going to die or not, that'll be something I'll decide, so keep on reading! Thank you for the support, please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	10. Chapter 10

One week later…

I take a look at my nearly naked body through a small mirror in the corner of my tent. That bullet is definitely going to add to my collection of scars, I've got about three now. Thankfully, the last bullet I took before being kidnapped by that bastard Colm didn't leave too bad of a mark. I guess this is a part of the outlaw life. Everyone has scars, on the outside and inside. I shut my eyes and lift up my chin, breathing in as much oxygen as I can. It's been a hard week, but I'm here. I'm alive. I don't remember much from the first few days, just snippets of Dutch saying he's sorry, John silently watching over me occasionally, Karen bringing me water, and Miss Grimshaw patting my forehead with a wet cloth to get some of the dirt off me. All I know is that I've been taken care of for the first time in a long time and I'm so thankful. The first time I was shot was when I was around 15. I was caught stealing some supplies from the general store in Strawberry and the manager shot me in the leg, somehow, I managed to run off and pull out the bullet myself with a pair of tweezers. I guess you could say I'm glad I didn't have to relive that experience once more. With the gang watching my back, I felt safer, more secure.

I take one last breath to calm myself before throwing on a red blouse and fitted pants, being particularly careful when I move my shoulder. I exit my tent and look around the camp for a moment, exchanging a few waves with those that notice me. Arthur is still resting, he had it a lot worse than me. I need to speak with him once he recovers. What happened back there… something wasn't right. In all honesty, I think Micah was behind the kidnapping. He was all too eager to have Arthur and I come along, and how else would Colm know about Dutch and me? I don't have much evidence, but Arthur may have some insight. Telling anyone else would be a mistake, especially if it were to get back to Dutch. He trusts Micah, I don't know why but he does, he would need solid proof in order to believe any sort of accusation against him. It'll have to wait though, Arthur needs time to recover.

Dutch and I haven't spoken about our fight… It's been dragging me down emotionally ever since I got a bit of my strength back. At least he isn't angry, but I don't think anything will change, for now. Molly is still staying in his tent and sharing his bed, as long as that continues, I won't change for him. Why should it be all on me to compromise? It ain't fair that way. Hopefully he can get past his own pride for once. He's the most stubborn, infuriating, charming, beautiful man I've ever known. If I fall for him, I get the feeling it will be unconditional, which scares the shit out of me.

His slicked back hair and red handkerchief is nowhere to be found amongst the scattered beings in camp this late afternoon. My searching gaze rests on John, who looks back at me with that small smile I've become so accustomed to. We make our way over to each other and meet by a tree.

"How's the shoulder doing, Fetcher?" he asks, handing me the cigarette he had between two fingers.

I take a puff, blowing smoke out of the ride side of my mouth. "I've still got both arms last time I checked," I say with the shrug of my good shoulder.

"Huh, would you look at that, kidnapped by a bunch of nasty outlaws and you came out with all limbs. Sounds like dumb luck if you ask me." John smirks a bit, I hand back the cigarette to him and laugh gently.

"I know. Sort of disappointing, isn't it? Sending you fellers a chopped off hand would've sent a real strong message, don't you think so Marston?" I bite on my lip, trying to keep my composure while putting my skill in sarcasm to use.

John looks down, nearly wheezing as he flicks his cigarette to the ground and squashes it with the toe of his boot in a swift motion. "You're right about that," he pauses, lifting his eyes to me, "You were a fool to go with them."

Suddenly, it doesn't seem like he's joking anymore. I cross my arms and question him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"You're always putting yourself in danger, Ana. If you keep on playing the hero, you're gonna get yourself killed. And believe me when I say no one wants that to happen," John says with furrowed brows and one hand on his belt. I'm not sure where this is coming from, but I decide to remain calm. I don't have the energy for a fight.

"Look, just because I don't wanna wash dishes and chop carrots all day don't mean I'm putting myself in danger … trust me, John, I know what I'm doing." John shakes his head near the end of my sentence which irritates me a bit. I wait silently to hear his response.

"You're just a girl. Hell, Lenny is the same age as you and he sees way less action cause of it! Just cause you know how to handle a gun and look good while doing it don't mean Dutch can drag you along on suicide missions. You've got to stop and think before you say yes." John is quite obviously genuinely upset about this, he can hardly look me in the eyes after he's done speaking.

I step towards him and lower my voice. "I ain't just a girl, Marston. I haven't been one in a long time. I'm fighting for a cause. If I die for it, so be it. I'm sorry, I can promise you I'm not trying to die, okay?" John scratches his scruff as he reluctantly nods. It seems like he's backing off for my sake. There's not much I can say on the matter without lying to him, which I'll never do.

John sighs, looking back at Micah who appears to be searching for someone to piss off before speaking once again. "I-I guess I just needed to let you know how I been feeling. Anyways, how are you really doing?"

Suddenly, I remembered the sound of the gunshot that nearly killed Arthur as he attempted to go search for help. My sobs, his groaning, the feeling of rope tied tightly around my wrists and ankles. I don't want to cry again, but fighting it feels useless. "I don't know… it's been hard, I guess. I thought we'd be fine once we were home, but everything just feels off. Been having trouble sleeping, the thought that Colm is still out there, it sickens me." I harshly wipe away a tear that rolls down my cheek before it makes its way to my chin.

I hate to see the pity in John's eyes, but it's there nonetheless. He reaches up to my face and traces his thumb over my bottom lip. "You'll be okay, Ana. We're all watching over you, no one is gonna get you again."

I shut my eyes tightly, refusing to let anymore tears find their way out of me. John's hand drops to his side and we stare at one another. Both of us longing for a kiss, but not wanting to attract any undesirable attention from those who surround us. Without a word, John takes me by the hand and guides me to the edge of the forest near camp. I keep up with his quickened speed easily. I rest my back against a thick tree, facing away from the abundance of tents. John places his hand on my neck and crashes his lips onto mine, I hold his wrist as our lips adjust to the forgotten feel of one another, our movements taking only a moment to sync up. He pleads for access to my mouth with his tongue and I willingly welcome him, moaning at his taste.

He ends our kiss, looking at me with desire present in his light brown eyes. I know what he wants, I accept with a knowing smile and nod. We move further into the forest, laying on a pile of dead leaves. John is considerate of my shoulder when he climbs onto me, looking me in the eye and releasing a moan as we begin to make love to each other for the first time.

…

John lays between my legs, his head resting on my chest. I run my hands through his dark brown hair which just about reaches his shoulders. His heavy breathing is loud enough to hear. Sweat runs down my neck. My hair is sprawled out amongst the surprisingly comfortable ground. If there was a line drawn when we initially became interested in one another, we just crossed it. Was there any going back from this? The concept of choosing between Dutch and John is so very unappealing, I can care for two men at once, but I can't live two lives forever. Perhaps it's a problem for the future, at least I'm going to pretend it is until the time comes to make a decision. A better woman would say no to both, find a man who loves her and no one else. That's never been me, I'll never be the better woman, as much as I'd like to be. Maybe a decade or two from now, I'll live a simple life, be a mother, cook, clean, run a farm. It's a pretty picture, but that's not an option for me at this time.

John rests his chin on me, I look down at him. I can't quite read his expression, is he pleased? It's hard to really grasp what goes on in his head sometimes, so I ask. "Something on your mind, Marston?" His eyes gravitate to the sound of my voice. "Nah, not really… I was actually trying to figure out how long it's been since I… you know, took a roll in the hay."

I can't help but release a laugh at his delivery of the phrase. "Well, considering it didn't take all that long I'm guessing it's been a while." John goes beet red, I push away the bits of hair that cover his forehead and run my thumb along his eyebrow.

He pushes himself onto his knees and I sit up. "It wasn't bad was it?" he asks while buttoning up his shirt while I slip my boots back on. I smile to myself even though I know he's looking. "You heard me, didn't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "The whole damn forest heard you, Fetcher."

He offers me a helping hand in getting up. We start heading back to camp slowly, I spot Dutch's blindingly white horse in the dimly lit area of hitching posts. He'll notice I've been gone since I haven't left camp for a week, I swallow nervously. John turns to look at me, "I know things ain't simple with us," he pauses to take a look at Dutch who is standing in front of his tent with a cigar in his right hand, "life just ain't simple, at least not for folk like us. I don't got everything figured out. But I like you, Fetcher. I don't know if it'll last forever, but I've got your back, no matter what."

John and I share a hug that lasts longer than I planned, but I don't mind. I wave goodbye as we walk in opposite directions. Today was a good day, the first one I've had in a while. But based on the look Dutch is sending my way, that could change very quickly. Might as well just deal with the matter at hand.

"Miss Fetcher," he inhales his cigar deeply, "I was wondering where you've been."

I couldn't resist peeping at Molly who is asleep on his mattress. Don't know how two people fit on there, but I'm sure they find a way. "John and I went for a walk," not technically a lie, we did walk at one point, "And please, just Ana, Dutch."

His jaw visibly tenses. He puts out his cigar in a crystal bowl. The one a French whore gave to him after staying with the gang for six months. Dutch had told me the story when he noticed me admiring the object a few weeks back. I observe the way it sparkles in the dark. "Are you up for another walk? We need to talk." Dutch offers me his arm, I reach from underneath and hold onto his firm forearm. He escorts me to the beach, where we spent most of our time together in the mornings before I was shot.

There's tension in the air, I know he can feel it too from the way his eyes linger on the horizon. It's dangerous to get lost in admiring him, but I do it anyways. His chin, nose, cheekbones are so distinct and unique. I snap out of it when he speaks. "I lost my temper that night. And that I'm sorry for," Dutch releases me, bowing his head down so he can look at me. It's difficult to make out his features now, his slicked back hair shines in the moonlight, "sharing you is… well, it's harder than I expected it to be. I've never had to share a woman I've fancied before. But you were right, I can't ask you to be with only me if I ain't willing to do the same."

I'm admittedly pretty shocked at his confession. If anything, I was expecting him to scorn me all over again. I didn't think he cared enough about me to overcome his stubbornness. I can't think of something reasonable to say so I resort to teasing him. "Oh my, Mr. Dutch van der Linde himself fancies me, I must be the luckiest gal in all of Lemoyne!" Dutch lets out a low chuckle and puts his hand up when I bat my eyelashes at him. "Don't get too carried away or I might change my mind!" he says jokingly. Our laughs trail off around the same time. We look at one another, relief washing over us now that we'd finally discussed our previous conflict. I can hear the distant sound of Javier playing his guitar, it's a slow, peaceful song.

"Just one thing… let's keep us separate from everything else," Dutch motions to me, then back at camp, referring to our other lovers, "you're something else, Ana. I got the feeling that eventually I won't want no one but you," he reaches for my hand and plants it on top of his heart as he breaks down the wall that's been there since we met, "and when that time comes, I hope you'll feel the same." Dutch presses his lips to the back of my hand, I blush a bit. "You're a real charmer, I'll give you that, Dutch."

"Come on now, Ana. You need your rest. We need you back on your feet and in action sooner rather than later, my dear." Dutch leads me back to camp, grabbing me by the waist and planting a kiss on my cheek before we part ways for the night. I can't ignore the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I'm not quite sure who the source of this sensation is.

…

It's late in the morning when Anastasia makes her way over to Arthur, who is finally back on his feet after a lengthy recovery. She'd visited him a few times while he was on a strict bedrest schedule according to Reverend Swanson. Now, he sat on the dock, self-reflecting like Ana was the day he threw her into the water.

"So, let me guess, you're out here trying to solve the world's problems, huh Morgan?" Arthur smiles back at her nostalgically. That felt like forever ago after what took place. He greeted her with a handshake Charles had taught them on a quiet night. They hold onto one another's hand and pat each other's back. When Charles suggested they make a habit of using it instead of just saying hello, they did so without any reservations. What they went through had brought them closer, Ana saw Arthur as the brother she never had. It's odd to become so comfortable around a person in a short amount of time, but their friendly connection was practically instantaneous. As if they were siblings in a past life.

"You got it. And I gotta say I think I'm doing a much better job than you." Ana rolled her eyes. She'd come here for a reason, she needed to talk to him about Micah. He was well enough now to hear what she has to say. They take a seat at the edge of the dock.

"Good to see you feeling better, Morgan… Look, I'm afraid I didn't just come to see you to make idle chatter. There's something we gotta discuss."

Arthur furrows his brows and moves his stare from the water over to her, wondering what's so important based on her tone. "Give it to me straight, Ana. What's wrong?"

She bites the inside of her cheek and double-checks no one is nearby. "It's Micah. I got a feeling he set up the meeting with Colm knowing we'd get kidnapped." Ana stops talking, allowing Arthur to process the information she believes to be true.

The blue-eyed man gawks at her. Could that really be true? Could Micah actually be some sort of rat? Ana moves her head forwards, awaiting his response anxiously. "W-what do you mean?! You really think he'd do something so foolish?"

"Use that brain I know you've got, Arthur. What reason does he got to make peace with them O'Driscoll Boys? He's run with ya'll for how long, eight months now? What I think is that he's trying to get on Dutch's good side, get rid of those he trusts more than anyone. I could be wrong about his plan, I don't know. But, how else would Colm have known about Dutch and me?" She pleads at the man much older than she with wide eyes, hoping she doesn't sound out of her mind.

He thinks back to Dutch's bounty poster forgotten at Micah's camp near Strawberry. Suddenly, it doesn't seem all that far-fetched. He breathes out sharply in anger and makes fists with his hands. "Shit, you could be right… that bastard. I wouldn't be surprised if he's planning on turning each one of us in to the law and taking off with the reward. That's what Colm said they was gonna do if Dutch came for us…"

Ana gasps to herself. If that was the scheme he was cooking up, Micah was worse than she previously thought. He'd be a rich man for life with all that money. "We need proof. The only way Dutch will buy it is if there ain't a single doubt left in his mind," Arthur begins to nod at her words, it made more sense rather than just killing him, "we'll keep a close eye on him, follow him if we have to and act when the time is right."

"Alright, I'm sold. If it comes to it, I'll kill that son of a bitch myself and take the blame, I swear," Ana is about to interrupt but he stops her by holding his hand up, "like you said, we gotta find proof before anything else. There's still a chance all of this is a coincidence… let's keep this between you and me. If word gets back to Micah, it ain't gonna be pretty."

They shake hands in agreement. There's not much they can do now, but Ana feels a weight lift off her shoulders knowing Arthur has her back on this. It was one hell of a burden to be carrying on her own. Maybe it was all just a wild coincidence like Arthur said, although it sure didn't feel like that to Ana.

Later that day…

"The prince fought to save a land that was not his own. Not for power, greed or his own selfishness but because he was truly kind…" I look down at Jack who seems to have lost focus in the story I'm reading him. Abigail had asked me to read to him because Hosea was occupied. She asked so kindly that I couldn't refuse.

I don't blame him for losing interest. This children's book is so cliché, I want to gauge my eyes out. Although I'll keep that to myself since learning to read is so important at his age. "Jack, what does the word selfishness mean?"

He looks up at me with the eyes of a man I know all too well. There's no doubt he's John's son, if you ask me. It's difficult to miss the resemblance between them. "Um… it's like…" he sighs, sounding frustrated.

"Come on Jack, think about the use of that word in the sentence." I smile when I can see the lightbulb go off in his brain.

"It's like doing something for yourself!" I give him a pat on the back and lean over so he can see my look of approval.

"Good job, Jack. Why don't you go on and play for a bit? Don't you go off too far now." I watch as he runs off to the beach, his trusted furry friend following him closely. Abigail offers me her thanks through a nod while she carries a basket full of dirty laundry.

Dutch invites me over to his empty tent with a wave, I oblige and head in his direction. "Nice of you to read to the boy," he says with a smile shifting to the right side of his lips.

"He's a good kid. Smart, too. I think he'll do just fine. He's got a lot of folk watching out for him." I nod at my own words, brushing my hair from where it rests on my shoulder. Dutch sits down and pats the spot next to him on his bed. I sit down and light a cigarette, leaning on my good arm comfortably.

Dutch looks rather handsome today, his tight red and black vest accentuates his best assets. He takes off his black hat and rests it on the table next to me. "How about we head into town tonight and have ourselves a candlelit dinner?" he asks me, running his fingertips along the piece of hair I pushed back only a moment ago.

"That sure does sound nice. Don't they got a bath in the local saloon? Wouldn't that be a dream…" Dutch obviously likes the sound of that as his eyelids relax and he moves in closer to me. His next words are whispered inches from my mouth. "Oh, how I'd love to get clean with you..." He kisses me powerfully, I moan quietly at the feel. We separate after around thirty blissful seconds of exploring each other's mouth. He's about to say something else until our attention turns to the sound of Abigail screaming helplessly for her son. We rush outside to see what's going on.

"Where's my goddamn son?! Where the hell is he? They took him, didn't they?" asks the mother so desperately. I look over to where I last saw him and see nothing but a stick he was playing with. Dutch and I share a panicked look as we come to the realization that Jack has been stolen from right under our noses. This can't be good.

A/N: Yay finally chapter 10! Lots of interesting stuff going on with John and Dutch… I can tell you Ana will have to make a decision at some point, but that won't be for a while, I think. I'm going to try and update every two days but once I'm back in school next week it'll be more like twice a week or so. I'll try my best, but life gets in the way.

So, what are everyone's thoughts/predictions? Let me know!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	11. Chapter 11

Anastasia digs her hands through her hair, pulling it roughly in pure panic and frustration. Turns out the supposedly perfect plan to outsmart the wealthy, stupid Braithwaites and Grays was a huge misstep and they were paying dearly. Arthur, Bill and Micah came back in a frenzy, saying the Grays ambushed them in town and Sean was dead. Ana couldn't even begin to mourn the loss of her Irish brother. She hadn't known him all that well, but they were part of the same family. She would miss his hilariously annoying presence.

Guilt overcame her as Dutch began to ask everyone if they'd seen Jack. Why hadn't she kept an eye on him after reading to him? Abigail had trusted her to care for her son and now he was gone. Currently there was one question occupying everyone's mind; who had taken that little boy?

Hosea charges over to the gathering of worrisome faces. He nearly stumbles in an effort to move hastily because he has the answer they're so frantically seeking. "We think that Braithwaite woman got him," the older man with sunken cheekbones takes a second to catch his breath, pointing in a vague direction away from camp, "Kieran saw a couple of fellers, they sounded a lot like them Braithwaite boys."

Ana rests her hand on Abigail's shoulder as she releases a sound of terror at the news. The mother of young Jack doesn't shed one tear, she is overwhelmed by resentment and determination. All she wants is her son back without a moment of delay. Ana is beginning to doubt getting him back will be stress-free. They must know how valuable he is to the gang, he could be easily used as blackmail.

Ana looks straight at Dutch, practically commanding him through her manner of speaking. "If that's where the boy is, we need to go and get him now, Dutch. I got the feeling that woman ain't a gentle soul if she's resorting to stealing a little boy." Abigail stands rigidly next to her as she speaks, backing her up without saying a word.

Dutch doesn't bother looking over to John, who's finally shown up to find out what's causing all this commotion. As soon as he catches wind of it, his appearance takes on a severe scowl. Dutch turns to Abigail, making a promise he has every intention of keeping. "We will find him, we will bring him back to you…if even a single fool touched a hair on that boy's head, we will kill them. Abigail, you have my word." Through each of his words the woman grows more impatient, not wanting to hear a speech right now. "Just get me back my son," she utters before watching the tall leader walk away, followed closely by Ana, Hosea, Arthur and John.

As they begin to make their way over to the horses, Ana places her hand on John's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze, she speaks to him relatively softly, "I know you're mad, but you gotta stay calm. There might be a way to get the boy back without killing a bunch of-" her words are cut off by John pushing her hand away roughly and the raising of his voice. "Shut up for once! I'll kill every one of them for taking that boy!"

Ana feels her heart sink a bit, but recovers quickly, wondering if she should bother to say anything to a man so on edge. She ultimately decides against it, since John physically distances himself from her. She shares a look with Arthur, who shakes his head, giving her the message that now is not a good time to speak with him.

Apparently, she missed the conversation where Dutch invited everyone but Micah and Kieran to come along for the confrontation. She can't help but feel pleased at the absence of the cold-hearted snake, if he came along, he'd likely make matters worse. They truly were a force to be reckoned with now. A bunch of fuming gunslingers was the last thing any sane person would want to see on their doorstep. Each member of the gang mounted their horses, creating a triangle formation with Dutch taking the lead. Ana decided on staying back with Arthur since she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ride up front considering her rookie status, even though her talent with a gun would surely come in handy.

John feels inclined to once again announce his plan for redemption. "I swear I'll kill every last one of those sons of bitches!" His voice is raspy and out of control, Ana stares at the back of his head, his hair moves with the breeze.

"I need you to stay calm, brother" says Dutch, motioning to take a breath. He knows just as well as Ana the risk involved. If John loses his temper, the boy could be hurt, if he hasn't been already.

"I'm fine." John answers stubbornly, feeling frustrated by everyone trying to subside his anger. Didn't he have a right to be mad? They had ripped away a son from his mother. They'd stolen that boy from him, too, and everyone that loved him. It didn't matter if Jack wasn't his, or that he wasn't with Abigail no more, he'd protect him no matter what from now on.

Hosea, practically a grandfather to Jack, has concern written all over his face. It's even apparent in his voice when he addresses no one in particular. "How'd they get to him without anyone noticing?"

Ana bites her lip hard enough that she draws some blood. The taste of iron revolts her. She has to admit that the boy would've been safe if it wasn't for her recklessness and lack of attentiveness. "It's my fault. Abigail asked me to read to the boy and keep an eye on him for a bit," John snaps his head back to look at her, appearing disappointed by her confession, she avoids his spiteful stare, "I should've watched over him more closely… I'm sorry." Ana means what she says, that much is clear through her troubled eyes that linger away from her lover's judgement. It hadn't been long since they wasted away the afternoon sharing the kind of intimacy that hormonal teenagers do. Sweat, laughter, sloppy kisses accompanied by uncontrollable moans. Ana thought it was strange how distant a state of happiness can seem when something objectively terrible happens. That was a part of being human, she figured.

Dutch frowns at the sound of her remorse, he doesn't want the young lady to blame herself for the actions of a mad woman. "That ain't your fault, Ana. We will get him back, and they will pay." Ana nods silently at his response. She allows anger to become her most prominent feeling in that moment as she pictures stabbing that old hag in the heart. A strange satisfaction washes over her, she fully intends to lose herself in utter viciousness during this fight. There weren't many times when Ana allowed violence to control her actions, but today would be an exception.

"What about the gold?" asks Bill, who hasn't spoken much during their ride. Ana rolls her eyes at the question. How could that even be something on his mind right now?

"I hate to be the one to admit this… but I got the feeling there isn't any gold." Hosea sounds confident but slightly embarrassed at his answer. The gang doesn't say anything, but there's an obvious tension that settles between everyone. After all this they're walking away with nothing. Hosea and Dutch were so sure they'd be rich if they could pull this off. Now what would they do and where would they go?

John is the one who openly ridicules the man for his mistaken judgement. "For Christ's sake, Hosea! After all that, another perfect scam."

"We underestimated them," says Hosea bluntly.

"No, they underestimated us. Enough talk everyone, it doesn't matter how we got here, we're going to fix it. Now come on!" Everyone speeds up on Dutch's command and they begin to ride in silence. Ana scans the men before her, she begins to visualize their plan. Was this a good idea? To show up at the Braithwaites front porch without anyone covering them? Dutch's head could be blown off on sight. She felt nauseous at the worst possible outcome.

Without putting much critical thought into her own strategy, she quickens her mount's pace to catch up with Dutch, keeping her distance so she doesn't get in the way of anyone. "Dutch, I'm going to ride ahead of everyone, see if I can't sneak onto the property and find some higher ground to cover you boys," John scoffs at her but she eagerly continues without acknowledging him, "there's a good chance they'll shoot you on sight, I'd feel better having my gun on the bastards."

The determined leader looks captivated by her idea and nods. "Alright, go ahead," Ana is about to get moving before Dutch says something else quietly, so only she can hear, "just… be careful, okay?"

Ana doesn't hesitate to accept his somewhat apprehensive request. "I will, I can promise you that… stay safe, Dutch." She rides away, moving fast so she can get in position before everyone arrives. As she separates from the men, she can hear the sound of John saying something about how she'll get herself killed. Despite the danger, Ana rides fearlessly towards her goal.

…

I somehow managed to get onto the Braithwaites property without getting a bullet in the head. Hosea had mentioned at one point that the family wasn't fond of unfamiliar faces, but much to my surprise there was hardly any security covering the outskirts of such a vast amount of space. From what I can tell, they're all inside the main home. I climbed up an enormous tree, each of its branches so thick it makes for an ideal vantage point. It must've been a lot less impressive when it was a sapling. Although I suppose almost everything grows more remarkable with age, until you reach the point of deterioration. I now remain crouched, waiting for my fellow outlaws with a rifle in my hands. Just as I start to wonder what's taking so long, I spot them dismounting their horses and approaching the mansion on foot. Dutch is looking for me with a slow scan of the area, when he looks in my direction, I give him a signal, letting him know it's safe to move up.

They're close now, I better get my aim fixed on the Braithwaite boys sitting on the front porch. I watch them through my scope, they stand up, not looking the slightest bit pleased to see Dutch walking up to them while everyone else waits behind.

"Get down here now, you inbred trash!" yells Dutch, each of his hands clutching a pistol. Hosea pulls back John when he begins to move ahead of their leader. Dutch continues to address the rather foolish looking southerners, I think I may have robbed one of them a while back, "we've come for the boy, you should've known we would."

The man in the middle with an untrimmed beard has a nasty grin on his face when he practically interrupts Dutch. "Well then you shouldn't have messed with our business now, should you?"

Dutch takes a sharp breath, one that is so loud even I can hear from up here. "Whatever complaints you have with us, alleged… or otherwise… that is a young boy. That is not how you do things. Hand him over." I stay still, readying myself to take a shot when the time is right.

"Get off our land!" yells the same man who isn't grinning anymore. Soon after, about twenty men emerge from various doors and ready their guns. It's time to act, they clearly want a fight and we're willing to oblige. The men on the balcony are my first victims, I shoot one in the chest. He screams out some nonsensical sound as his brother yells out the name Thomas. I watch his body flop over the railing before the shooting starts. Bullets are going in every direction as the gang runs to cover. I focus again and take down the man who called out his brother's name, sending a bullet into his neck. He makes a face as if he's screaming, but not a single sound comes out. His body collapses in seconds.

"There's a fucking shooter in the tree!" says one of the Braithwaite boys while pointing in my direction, I take cover behind a branch when bullets start flying at me. Turns out this tree is ideal for cover too, not one gunshot finds its way to me.

My luck runs out when I hear Arthur calling out to me. "Ana get down from there! They set the damn tree on fire!" They had indeed done so; the flames were quickly making their way up to me. I look around for an escape route, there's no way I'm climbing down. My eyes come to a halt when I spot the roof, I can probably make the jump from one of the branches. Probably is better than burning to death, I suppose.

I move as fast as I can without tripping and breaking my neck, I throw my body at the roof when I reach the end of the tree's weakest surface. My body tumbles down the tiles due to my rough landing, I can hear someone yelling at me to grab onto the edge, I do so before falling to my death or possible lifelong injury.

"Let go, I'll catch you!" says a voice who sounds like Arthur. Makes sense considering he's the strongest besides Charles. I look down, it's too far, also I can easily get myself onto the balcony.

"I'll be fine, Morgan!" I say with weak laughter as I swing myself onto the second level. I'm able to land without falling on my face this time. Standing amongst the men I killed moments ago, I lean my hands on the railing and await Dutch's command.

"Ana! Are you alright?" asks my beloved, lifting up his chin and raising his voice.

I spot a lock of hair that escaped from the rest, he pushes it back instinctively. "Don't you worry about me. Get through that front door. I'll see if I can get the door open here."

"What? Don't be reckless, Ana, there could be a dozen men up there, just wait for us!" says Arthur, who makes his way into my sight while throwing up an arm.

"We ain't got time to waste, get the damn door open!" I dismiss him and John, who looks like he has some sort of insult he's about to throw my way.

I use my knife to unlock the glass door that separates me and the remaining Braithwaites. Where is everyone? Are they really stupid enough to all retreat to a single room? I doubt it, like Hosea said, we underestimated them, it'd be wiser to overestimate them now. I can hear Arthur and John crash through the main door, followed by Dutch who barks instructions at them. Gunshots turn a noiseless sanctuary into chaos within moments. I need to start searching these rooms.

I turn to the right and shove my shoulder into a wooden surface, it only takes three bashes for it to break down. I'm greeted by an armed Braithwaite, eagerly preparing to fire. I shoot him in the gut before he has the chance. A part of me wants to feel guilty because he cries out in such pain, a kind of agony I've never known. I let him bleed to death rather than ending it quickly. Jack is nowhere to be found here. Dutch and Hosea have made their way upstairs and are covering a room across from me.

"Arthur, John, Ana get out there! We got this covered!" Dutch says, instructing the three of us briefly.

We take cover and fire at the men approaching on horses with torches. One, shot in the shoulder, feller with brown hair and a red shirt. Two, shot in the chest, shaved head and a yellow tie. Three, my final kill, I cannot end this without a headshot, he wore a light blue vest that drips with blood when my bullet makes a life ending impact with his forehead.

When there are none of them left to kill, we work on breaking down the door that protects that Braithwaite woman from us per Dutch's command. It only takes a moment for us to get in, considering all our strength combined was more than effective.

"Shit!" is the only word that escapes my mouth when two Braithwaite boys fire at us upon entrance. Arthur kills them before I even have the time needed to raise my gun. That man can work wonders with a firearm. I feel an unpleasant stinging sensation on my right arm, a bullet had grazed my skin.

Hosea and Dutch finally break down the other door, Dutch catches sight of my arm. "You're bleeding, you get shot?"

"Just a scratch… I'll live," I look around the area, staring at the entrance to a closet before I continue, "the bitch must be hiding in there." It doesn't take even a second for Dutch to kick down the final barrier that coward hides behind. How can someone let all her sons die for such an inhumane cause? It's sickening.

I back away slowly as Dutch drags the screeching old woman by her wrist, throwing her against the wall.

"You want me to kill you too, old woman?" says Dutch as he pulls his gun from his holster. There's so much spite in his voice, he looks so intimidating as he stands over the powerless crone. I know I shouldn't take pleasure in any of this but watching Dutch in this state is definitely arousing to witness. Lord, there must be something wrong with me.

I'm tired of just standing here. I make my way over to her and press a knife against her throat. I lower my head and speak to her softly. "Tell us where the boy is, or I'll burn you alive you worthless hag."

"We have lived in this house for over a hundred years and we never had any problems except for common scum like you… You! You killed my sons!" she nearly spits in my face when she states the obvious.

I laugh as I mock her. "We won't leave a single one left unless you tell us where the boy is!" Dutch pulls me back smoothly and points his gun at her throat. Clearly, he wants a turn just as much as I did. "Start talking now or we'll burn this place to the ground, woman. Where. Is. The. Boy?"

"You're filth, all of you. Especially you and that whore, murders you are." Dutch grabs the woman by the collar of her nightgown, taking her with us so she can witness us destroy everything she ever loved. I stay by his side as he effortlessly pulls the shrieking woman outside while John and Hosea light the place up.

He dumps her on the ground and we surround her. "Tell us where the boy is, Mrs. Braithwaite," says Hosea in the form of a statement, not a question.

"You stole from me, Mr. Matthews! There ain't no rules in war! But if you must know my sons gave him to Angelo Bronte in Saint Denis, so he's either there or being shipped off to Italy as we speak!"

No one utters a word as they turn away from the hysterical Braithwaite woman. She doesn't deserve to be left alive. She needs to die.

Dutch, John, Arthur and Hosea stop when they notice I'm not following. "Just leave her, she's mad," Arthur says with a hand on my shoulder.

"You don't know who Angelo Bronte is, do you? He's a villainous Italian crime lord. If she willingly handed Jack over to him, we need to kill her." I don't bother looking at her while I state my opinion. Her cries are so easy to ignore because I couldn't care less.

John seems to agree with me but doesn't say a word. Dutch simply watches, allowing me to make the call. His silence empowers me to do the deed. I take my knife from my belt and kneel onto her, sinking it into her throat as blood gurgles. Life drains from her eyes and I remove my sharp weapon from her, wiping the blade on my clothes. Blood stains cover my chest. We leave behind the manor which will soon be nothing more than ashes. Dutch and John walk next to me with sullen expressions. All of us we're hoping to return with Jack, but as I suspected this won't be a simple task.

…

Anastasia and the gang reluctantly returned to camp. Much as they expected Abigail hounded them for answers as soon as they arrived. She hadn't left the spot where she sat waiting for them since the moment they left. She hardly spoke a word to anyone but Sadie, who was the only one who could comprehend the pain she was undergoing. Ana held her close when they delivered the news that Jack wasn't at the Braithwaite manor, but in Saint Denis with a man named Angelo Bronte. Ana explained that she had spent a week there after retreating from Rhodes almost a year ago now. It was a filthy city full of corruption and Bronte was behind everything. From what she knew about him, he would not harm a child. But he would surely not hand Jack back to them without any strings attached. Everyone agreed that they would send scouts tomorrow to find a new camp near the famous city.

Their discussion was exhausting but necessary. Surely tomorrow would involve planning, a lot of it, knowing Dutch van der Linde. It must've been around three in the morning when everyone retreated to their tents and passed out on their bedrolls. The only one who lay awake was Abigail, who couldn't sleep if her life depended on it.

It was only then when Ana figured it was safe to clean up in the lake. She couldn't exactly sleep while covered in Braithwaite blood. She stripped down to her undergarments and begin scrubbing the stained pieces of fabric. Seclusion came to an end when Dutch joined her by the water. Neither of them felt a greeting was needed considering the circumstances, they merely looked at each other temporarily.

"So, tell me Dutch van der Linde, does killing a defenceless old woman make me a killer?" she asks, void of any emotional attachment to her question. She began washing the blood off herself with a sponge.

"We're all killers, Ana. Difference is we kill for freedom and justice, not for pleasure or entertainment. That's what makes us better than common scum," Dutch kneels down and places a hand on her back, her skin is cold to touch, he resumes speaking softly into her ear, "you're freezing. Come rest with me tonight. Molly ain't there."

Dutch guides the lost soul back to his private space. It's so much warmer in here, it could be mistaken for a real home. Although Ana believed this was more of a home than any house you could buy for a decent price. He handed her a white nightgown, she held onto it without moving. "If this is Molly's, I'd rather not…" Dutch shook his head plainly and spoke to her calmly, "no, it was Annabelle's. Before you start, she wouldn't mind. She told me she wanted me to move on before she passed," Dutch's face brightens a little when he lightens up the mood with a smile, "and I suppose since the two of you practically share a nickname you've got more of a right to it than Molly."

Ana scoffed teasingly before throwing on the sleepwear, it was undeniably more comfortable than the rags she usually sleeps in. Dutch gets under the covers and pulls her onto his chest. He initiates the repeated motion of rubbing her temple with his calloused thumb. It's an affectionate act, one that pushes her closer to sleep.

"You impressed me today," Dutch says, thinking back on how she covered him and jumped from a burning tree onto the roof. He didn't know how she made that jump, from where he was standing it looked far as hell.

"I did what I had to, what we all had to, love. We'll get that boy back, I know it." Dutch looks down at her, she's closed her eyes as an indication that she's too tired to continue a conversation. Her round face and scattered freckles make her appear so young. She is just a young lady after all, she's two decades younger than the man who holds her so close. It wasn't uncommon for men like Dutch to desire the company of girls like her, but he craved more than that. He felt unstoppable near her, she made him a better leader for some unknown reason. Dutch places a kiss on the top of her head before falling into a deep state of rest.

A/N: finally got this chapter done! Thank you for all the kind reviews and sorry for the wait. I'm definitely going to see this through till the end. I usually have more trouble writing action compared to conversation-based scenes, but this chapter was a breeze to write. The Braithwaite battle was too epic not to include, definitely give the soundtrack for this part a listen, it's so well done. Hope everyone enjoys! Please send me your feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	12. Chapter 12

Another strange dream haunts Anastasia in what she hoped would be a night of peaceful slumber. Even the warmth of Dutch wasn't enough to comfort her when she awoke to the feeling of terror. She had dreamt of Micah burying her alive while everyone from the gang watched. Micah uttered every insult imaginable until she choked on dirt. It was a scenario that chilled her to the core at the very remembrance of it. It took nearly two hours for her to fall back asleep, her mind was occupied by attempting to rid herself of panic, her heart was racing.

It was around dawn when Ana was awakened by the slow movement of her considerate leader. He didn't mean to wake her as he prepared for the day, but she'd always been a light sleeper. One had to be while living amongst the wilderness, you could never know what danger to expect.

Dutch was dressed in a charcoal black suit when Ana finally gained the willpower needed to open her sleepy eyes. He sat back down near her and pushed strands of wild hair from her face. "I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep my dear."

Ana sat up and pulled her knees towards her chest, it made her look like a child. "Don't worry, I wasn't getting much of a sleep anyways," her stare drifts away from him, reading the titles of books that are sitting stacked in a corner. Dutch is able to spot her melancholy with ease. Nothing makes him feel worse than to see a strong spirit weakened by hardship, especially hers. He once believed Molly's mood swings made him immune to empathy at times. Now all he wanted to do was restore the woman before him to her former self. "How about you and I get some air?" he asked as he lifted her face by her chin tenderly. She half-heartedly agreed with distant eyes. Dutch gave her some space to get dressed before they began to walk the shoreline in silence.

He turned to her, the look of determination present in his brown eyes, though they looked black at this hour. "Tell me, Ana, do you have faith in me?" Ana was perplexed by his question, was it a segue into a speech? The only way to find out was to answer. "Of course I have faith in you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Dutch stopped moving, he placed his hands on her shoulders as he spoke, "Then hear me out on this. I can see the doubt in your eyes, I saw it the moment Jack was stolen from us. Fear leads to doubt, and I cannot blame you for being afraid of what comes next," he paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing, "we've been through hard times lately, but we will get out of it, I promise. Once we get the boy back, I'll come up with a plan. All we need is one last score then we can disappear. Just don't lose faith, my dear girl."

Ana didn't know how to respond at first. She didn't doubt Dutch, not one bit. It was Micah that made her doubt the gang's safety. She can't tell him about her suspicions, as much as she wanted to right now. Dutch was awaiting her response eagerly, she picked up his hands and held one, moving her thumb along his rough skin. "I believe in you, Dutch… I wouldn't trade this life for all the money in the world. With that being said, I think you, all of us, need to be careful in the days to come. And trust those who've always had your back." Even if she couldn't point the finger at Micah, she could try to guide Dutch's judgement in the right direction.

He furrowed his brows, not fully grasping what she meant by trust, however, he chose not to pester her on the comment. Neither he or she had the energy to initiate an argument. They continue their walk since the serious part of their conversation was over. A question popped into Ana's head, one she couldn't resist asking. "How do you do it?" she laughed realizing how foolish that sounded out loud, "I mean how do you lead all those folks without turning to the drink or going mad?"

Dutch let out a low chuckle, there had been times when he thought about leaving everything behind and living a simple life, but he could never fight his yearning for freedom. "I've brought them this far, to give up now would be very… unwise of me, don't you think?"

Ana shrugged neutrally, she hadn't thought of what she would do in his position. Being a leader didn't sound tempting to her, that's for certain. "I suppose so. I don't think I could ever do what you do."

"Oh, I sincerely disbelieve that, my dear. You're a natural-born torchbearer, you just don't know it yet," he said with a smirk. Ana felt flattered even though she didn't agree with him. She looked back at camp which looked a lot smaller from a distance. "We should start heading back unless you want Molly to pout for a good hour or so." Dutch pretended to discipline her by bowing his head with stern eyes while he quietly snickered, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

"Don't you dare give me that look, Van der Linde," Ana placed her hand on her hips, tilting her head to the side seductively, "it doesn't work on me no more."

"It appears you're able to see through me time, after time, Miss Fetcher," he gracefully moves closer to her, leaning his forehead against hers when there's no space left between them, "what am I to do with a woman as smart as a whip?"

"Why don't you show me?" His lips brush against hers, not at all innocently, but fiery and demandingly. He mumbles her name into the kiss, savouring the sound of each letter, "Anastasia…" He clasps her face with his hands, a flame in her heart is lit at that moment. Ana accepts the fact that she's carelessly falling deeply in love with this man, and there's no way of stopping it now.

…

"It don't feel right, not going for the boy straight away. If we don't bring him back Abigail will kill all of us," says John, seeming unsure of Dutch's proposal that we don't rush over to Bronte until we settle into a new camp and investigate the man further. Yesterday, John was insistent we go to him as soon as it's light out, but plans can change.

"We don't know what we're heading into, Bronte is a dangerous man. He could have us all killed as soon as we step foot onto his property," John doesn't look at me when I speak, it's still slightly uncomfortable between us since his outburst yesterday. At this point, there's no rush to solve it until Jack is safe. I won't put my personal issues before the safety of a child.

"Logically, the boy is safe. They're just trying to scare us. No one takes a child to harm him. I promise you we will go for him as soon as we can, brother," Dutch speaks with the usual movement of his hands, looking across the table at an unsure John, "I'm proud of you, we're doing the right thing, just trust me."

Arthur, with his leg up on a chair, interjects, "He'll be fine. But, of course, Marston's scared, we stirred up trouble all over again like we did back in Valentine. We killed a lot of people for nothing-" Dutch interrupts sternly, but calmly, as if he couldn't be more certain that he's right, "No, not for nothing. For living."

"That family didn't leave us much choice. There was no other way to settle it. We couldn't leave without knowing where the boy is," I say to Arthur, intending on reassuring him that we didn't needlessly take lives. Well, I suppose I could've spared Mrs. Braithwaite, but what's done is done.

Suddenly, Lenny's voice stressfully calls out to Dutch, ending all of our focused mentalities. "Hey Dutch, we got a problem!"

"Not a problem… visitors, with a solution," A man with a scarred face wearing clothing you see most city folk in approaches us. Not seeming all that alarmed by Lenny's gun being pointed right at him. He's followed by a few other men that don't look much different from him. My best guess is, based on those shiny golden badges, that these are the infamous Pinkertons we've been running from. I don't want to know how they caught up with us. The skinny lawman continues to address us as the rest of the gang gathers around them. Dutch looks like he doesn't have any interest in what he's saying. "Good day, fine people. Mr. Van der Linde, Mr. Matthews, I presume." His observant gaze shifts to John, who he must be unfamiliar with. "And who are you?" John gets up from his chair, putting his hand on his pistol. "Rip Van Winkle." I nearly burst out laughing from such a ridiculous sounding alias.

He then turns to me with a scowl, I wipe the smile off my face instantly. "Ah, yes you must be Anastasia Fetcher. We've been tracking you down for some time, you know." I take a sharp breath in, trying to maintain my composure. I spot Dutch's face harden in the corner of my eye. "You must be mistaken, sir. My name is Nelly Cooper." Luckily, I've gotten more creative when it comes to making up my identity. Definitely more believable than Ana Fisher. "You don't fool me, young lady. Did you really think robbing innocent men across three states would go unnoticed? And now you've upgraded to murdering them, it seems." I cross my arms, showing him I'm not interested in what he has to say. He gets the message when Arthur walks right up to him, blocking me from his sight.

"And Mr. Morgan. How fine it is to see you." Arthur stands still, I can tell he's waiting for the chance to use his gun. I don't see this ending in a firefight, he can't be that stupid. "Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency." He says that like we should be impressed, I move up next to Arthur, this degenerate doesn't scare me. "Well, I suggest you get on with what you have to say, Mr. Milton. As you can see, we are very busy people." I don't break the stare he directs my way.

Dutch finally stands up, looking purely annoyed by this encounter already. "And to what do we owe the pleasure… Agent Moron?" I can't help myself from stifling a laugh once again. Arthur nudges me in the side with his elbow, he looks serious, but I see a hint of humour in his eyes that only I can recognize.

"Obviously you're not aware or you don't seem to care, but this is a civilized land now. We didn't kill all of those savages for folk like you to show up and act like basic human decency hasn't been invented. This thing, it's done." He motions between all of us, what a foolishly misguided person he is. How can he not see the freedom behind how we live? I will never understand people like him.

"This place… ain't no such thing as civilized. It's man, so in love with greed, he has forgotten himself and found only appetites." Dutch emphasizes his last word and approaches Agent Milton, we move with him.

"And so that gives you the right to take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us?! Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" Milton looks briefly at every one of us like he thinks he knows better. Oh, how'd I'd love to shut him up with a bullet.

I think it's about time someone put this fool in his place, I willingly speak up, "And who made you the dictator of how we decide to live our lives?"

"It's called the law, you ignorant fool of a woman. You ain't much better than that daddy of yours, are you? You're just a killer, just like your leader." Dutch nearly turns red at his insults directed at me, we share a look and I shake my head. I won't lose my temper at such poorly crafted rudeness. Milton goes on, "Nevertheless, I came to offer a generous deal to all of you. Mr. Van der Linde comes with us and the rest of you have three days to run off and live a decent life."

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers, for me? So that they might live and love…? Ain't that fine." Dutch and I exchange a sneer before everyone else lets out a low chuckle in unison.

"I didn't come here to kill all of these folks, Dutch. Do the right thing for once in your life and come with us."

John joins me at my side, we share a knowing smirk as Dutch puts his hands up, walking practically comically. "Well in that case I'd be honoured to join you. Excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep with…" As if on cue, we all remove our guns from their holster, readying them for fire. I reaffirm the message I'm sure Milton is getting. He even looks a bit frightened. "Now I think our visitors have overstayed their welcome, haven't they?"

"We've got something to live and die for. To fight for. We'll live and love the way we please. Stop following us, Mr. Milton. Next time we won't be so polite," Dutch says, with a look that could kill.

"I'm afraid I can't. When I return, I'll be with fifty men and we'll kill every last one of you. Run away from this place, you fools!" Milton is making a fool of himself as he attempts one last desperate plea to get rid of us. It's embarrassing to watch, really. Lenny roughly escorts them out with his gun ready to shoot if needed. We wait until we're sure they're gone to talk.

"We need to get out of here, now. Arthur and Charles, you go secure that spot we talked about before. Miss Grimshaw, we need to get everything into the wagon!" Dutch shouts hastily, I'm glad he sees the seriousness of the matter. Everyone besides John and I disperse, we'd clearly already prepared to leave earlier today. I let out a long sigh from the relief of such an intense situation being done with. John seems just as troubled as I.

"They won't give up easily… seems like our problems follow us everywhere now." John sits back down on a stool, burying his hand in his hair that's been flattened by his hat.

I join him in taking a seat, biting the inside of my cheek before I think of something to say that doesn't sound overly pessimistic. "I think they'll follow us a long damn way. I hate to say it, but I don't see no easy way out of this, Marston." John nods slowly, staring at the worn-down surface of the wooden table. His index finger runs along a noticeable crack in it. A loaded silence overcomes the atmosphere between us.

"Sorry for going at you yesterday. I-I… we were all worried 'bout Jack, still is." John's eyes lock onto mine with a shared understanding, he had some difficulty in getting those words out. I appreciate him making the effort.

I extend my touch to John's forearm, I do so slowly like one wrong move and I'll break a fragile object. "Don't apologize to me. I saw what you was going through… you can pretend that you didn't feel a thing, that's fine. But, just know I'm here, either way, Marston."

John fixates his eyes on me, I don't know what he's thinking or feeling. He's a man so at war with himself on the inside. It pains me to know there's only so much I can do to help him. At the end of the day, he'll choose where his life takes him. If I'm not a part of his future, it'll be hard to accept. I just want what's best for him. Everyone seems occupied enough that we're able to share a private moment amongst the commotion. He guides my hand to his cheek and keeps it there for a moment, he kisses my palm lovingly before giving me back my hand.

"Seems like someone might like me again, huh?" I say teasingly while biting my lip. John's face crinkles in silent laughter. "Never a dull moment with Anastasia Fetcher, is there?" he asks, expecting something witty in return. I happily oblige. "You know, never heard you say my full name till now. I thought it might have too many letters for you." John squints his eyes at me, backing away and crossing his arms. "Ain't my fault. It's quite a mouthful after all." A dirty joke I can't not share impulsively exits my mouth. "It's only fair since you gave me my share of a mouthful the other day."

John goes so unbelievably red that I burst with laughter, wiping away a runaway tear that falls down my cheek. Once I regain my self-control, I see John hiding his face and shaking his head as he stifles his own laughter. "Oh, come on, you gotta admit that was a good one!"

"You're gonna make everyone think we're crazy, over here laughing our asses off while we're going through a crisis." He probably had a point, but humour is the best medicine I know of for unhappiness. It's how I coped with most of the shit life threw my way.

"Glad to see you two having fun as we slave away!" yelled Bill, sending a disapproving look our way. I defend our actions with an apologetic wave. "Sorry 'bout that Bill! Marston was just saying he thought you looked real cute today!" He shook his head at me and walked on. I turn back to John who's on the brink of wheezing. "You are a terrible person."

"I do my best, Marston. I really do." I turn to Miss Grimshaw who's telling everyone it's time to get moving. That was surprisingly quick. I suppose everyone was warned we might be moving today. I'm glad to get out of this town. I never did like Rhodes.

…

Before us stands a rundown manor by a swamp full of enough alligators to eat all of us for dinner. I guess anything is better than a town full of racists and inbred trash. Dutch was glowing, clearly pleased with the work Arthur and Charles put into finding the spot. "I for one am looking forward to having a roof over our heads, aren't you Miss Fetcher."

He's right actually. It might be nice not to have water soak through my tent on rainy days. Dutch snuck his hand around my waist and accompanies me through the front door. Leaving behind Molly who was awaiting his help with getting out of their carriage. I overhear her huff and refuse poor Javier's help.

"I need to head into town with Arthur to find out more about this Bronte feller, my dear… but I have something to ask of you," Dutch looked down at me, taking my hands as he worked his charisma on me, "will you set up our things in the master bedroom?"

My mind flashes back to the scowl of a certain redhead. She might just attempt to chop my head off. "And where will Molly stay...?" I ask quietly.

"I'm sure a grown woman like herself is capable of living on her own for once, no?" he asks, a knowing look in his eyes. He doesn't care as much for her now it seems. I can feel my heartbeat quicken.

"I'm sure… I'll see to it that all our things are moved into there, now go bring back that little boy." Dutch gives me a kiss on the cheek before he and Arthur move quickly towards their steeds. I walk over to Miss Grimshaw, I hope a blissful radiance of happiness isn't too apparent on my face. Once Jack is back, all will be well again. I truly believe it. As long as Micah isn't who I think he is, things might just work out for us here.

"Miss Grimshaw, Dutch wanted me to let you know that my things and his will be moved into the master bedroom. Miss O'Shea will, um, have to find other living arrangements, if that's alright with you…"

The older woman glances at Molly who stands stiffly with her arms crossed, staring out into the swamp. "O-oh yes, that's fine, thanks for letting me know…" I'm about to take off to see where my assistance is needed before I hear Susan calling out to me. "Ana, can I speak with you for a moment?" She looks troubled, I'd better see what's the matter. "Yes, Miss Grimshaw?" The woman who's never afraid to speak her mind pauses, bringing me to a spot where no one can listen in.

"Look, I just wanted to tell you to be careful with Dutch… and John. Dutch is the kind of man who reels a girl in, till she's so in love that she'll give up everything for him. Then when he's had enough, he'll trade ya in for a new one. Trust me, I know." I widen my eyes, I can't believe what I'm hearing, yet I'm too shocked to form a sentence. In all honesty, I want to hear what else she has to say. "And John, he may seem like a good man, and he is, most of the time. But he'll hurt you too, he won't mean to, but at the end of the day, he doesn't have what it takes to love a woman. He proved that with Abigail… I know you probably think I'm some delusional old hag, but I know them boys. I've watched them for years, I just want you to watch out for yourself. You ain't no use to us with a broken heart. Molly sure ain't." Without a goodbye, Miss Grimshaw gets back to business, barking orders at Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth.

I'm unsure what to make of her advice. I thought I was being careful with my heart though I am irrefutably falling for Dutch. Perhaps I do need to have more of a guard up. There is no happy ending with both of them. I pray that I am not left without either of them at the end of the day. I can't bear to picture a life without Dutch or John by my side. I gulp down the thought of potential pain I could face not long from now and assist Javier and Bill with carrying in chests of personal items.

Javier notices my seemingly reflective expression and speaks to me as we go up the rickety staircase, "Don't worry, Ana, Jack will be back soon, and everything will be fine. I return his reassurance with a nervous smile. "I sure do hope so, my friend."

A/N: Chapter 12, enjoy! Really loved writing the one-on-one time with Dutch and the make-up between Ana and John. I think I put a lot of solid time into building and differentiating the relationships, so I'm pleased with the chapter. And the Pinkerton confrontation was such a badass moment in the game, I had to throw it in here. Heads up, my classes start back up tomorrow (sadly) so, I may not have as much time to write. Expect fewer updates, I'm sorry! Of course, I'll be posting a new chapter minimum once a week, hopefully more! Thanks for the support!

Please send me your criticism/feedback!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm tired of waiting! Been waiting two days, Ana. I want my boy back now or I'll… I'll kill that Bronte fella myself." Abigail was pacing aggressively, gripping the fabric of her worn-out skirt when emotion overpowered her ability to speak.

Anastasia had been attempting to comfort her, but it was all to no avail. They had been gone for some time, although she didn't think there was a legitimate reason to worry. Dutch has an insurmountable talent for talking his way out of a problem and this wasn't going to be any different, she was sure of it. It was a rare occasion that John and Dutch were both absent from camp at the same time. Ana often tried to occupy herself with tending to Abigail's sporadic panic attacks, so she's wasn't left uselessly awaiting their return. She'd wanted to go with John so very badly, but something told her he needed to do this by himself. He was finally stepping up to his role of a father, she admired him deeply for it.

"You just need to take a seat. They'll be here in no time, I'm sure of it…" It felt as if some sort of unearthly force had granted Abigail a wish when Bill announced the arrival of John, Dutch and Arthur. That, or God was tired of the mother's sobs, so he brought Jack back to her at that moment to silence her. Nevertheless, their arrival couldn't have been more perfectly timed.

Abigail raced over to her son as if her life depended on it. It was an undeniably heartwarming moment to witness as she embraced the small figure. "My son! You brought me back my son! Dutch, Arthur, thank you…. thank you" Her words were unsteady as her bottom lip visibly quivered. It was refreshing for everyone to see her smile at last. Ana watched as Hosea infolded the boy in his arms, seeming just as ecstatic to see him back where he belongs. "Jack, my dear boy, how are you?" The little one seemed just as chipper as ever, and most importantly was unharmed. "I'm fine! They fed me good. Do you think Mr Pearson can make us spaghetti?" Hosea looked puzzled yet pleased at hearing Jack explain the foreign food.

Ana patted Jack on his head and sent him a warm smile on her way over to the four men. She could hear the sound of celebratory cheers from the rest of the gang behind her. There was a bit of a tense moment as both Dutch and John sent her a knowing look, they both longed to greet her affectionately. Luckily, it was cut short by Hosea before it became uncomfortable. "Care to inform me on what happened?" he asked, looking between each man. Dutch looked amused as he thought back to his meeting with the extremely Italian man. "We met Mr Bronte, he's a character, that's for sure. He's invited us to some garden party for the finest members of society," Hosea raised an eyebrow, he and Dutch obviously shared an interest in this, "I think he may be of use to us, my friend. Come, I'll tell you all about him." Dutch and Hosea began to walk away before he turned back. "John, go spend some time with the boy. Arthur, thank you," his voice lowered as Arthur nodded in return, he sounded genuine, "Ana, come find me later. We got some work to do my friends!" He shouted and raised his arms up. "But let us have a drink tonight!"

"You boys did good, real good," Ana waved to them as she went to join everyone gathering around the fire. It looked like John needed a moment with Arthur. There was something off-putting in his expression. She reckoned he was feeling guilty for not caring for the boy sooner than he did.

"Come on, we gonna celebrate or what?!" shouted Karen with a beer in hand and a slur. The blonde had claimed she was drinking in preparation of their celebratory night.

Jack, John and Abigail made a beautiful family, Ana thought to herself feeling a pinch of jealousy swell in her throat. She washed it down with the swig of a beer she'd picked up. John eyed her with a familiar look as she stood next to Arthur. She was wearing her best red dress, a favourite of his, as well as Dutch.

"Play us away!" shouted a tipsy Uncle who stumbled into his seat. Everyone waited eagerly to dance and sing along to one of Javier's beautiful melodies. The Spanish lyrics were unknown to everyone, but they knew the chorus by heart.

" _Ay, ay, ay, ay, Canta y no llores,_ " everyone sang when the song reached its peak. With swinging arms and wide grins, they filled up the sound of a soulless swamp with joy known to nights you never forget till the final days of life.

Ana threw her arm over Arthur's shoulders as they sang the chorus loudly together with raised drinks. Everyone clapped and cheered as the song came to an end. Abigail and Jack said their goodbyes as the boy was brought back to his room for the night. Javier played a peaceful tune as everyone began to spread out, drinking, laughing and telling stories. Tonight would be free of sorrow and worries at last. Ana knew this for certain when she spotted Micah lingering by himself at the edge of camp. Even he knew when to stay away for once. But of course, Molly didn't, she was stumbling over to Dutch in a drunken state. She was going to make a fool of herself once more, it seems. Ana watched from behind Pearson's wagon with a cigarette between her fingers.

"Oh, there he is, Mr high and mighty. Where's that new whore of yours, huh? I've got something to say to the both of you!" she shouted with arms that had a mind of their own considering how much she's had to drink.

"What can I do for you, Miss O'Shea?" Dutch asked calmly, not all that bothered by her abrupt and foul-mouthed approach. He was smart enough to not add fuel to a fire.

"It's Molly… you fool. I've been your woman for far too long to… to…" she lost track of her words and Dutch stepped in, mildly agitated. "You've had too much to drink. Go rest."

"Go rest? Go rest? How dare you command me around like I'm a child! I am a lady, a well-bred lady, not some whore-born savage who bends to your will and sleeps with every man that fancies those low-cut frocks of hers! You're a bastard!" Ana pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. This was really too much to watch now. She couldn't fathom why the woman remained here if she despised Dutch so much. It was exhausting, frankly, for her, Molly and Dutch.

"Yes, how lady-like you are, Molly." Dutch's voice was so sarcastic it was impossible to miss. Molly shrieked something that slightly resembled an insult, though her words were difficult to make out. The woman was nearing a breaking point, if or when she would escalate to violence was unknown to Ana and Dutch. The strong-willed leader now sat bent over, burying his face in his hands. He didn't want to admit that Molly's resentment of him was taking its toll. It was just another weight dragging him down at this point. To leave her would break her, and even he didn't want the lively, spirited person he once knew to completely lose herself. He couldn't be that cruel, not to someone he used to love. It was questionable whether he did love her at any point though, he often wondered if he loved the idea of stealing a rich girl away from high society.

Suddenly, a familiar hand made its way to Dutch's back. The way its fingers moved as light as a feather in circular motions could only belong to one woman, Anastasia. He easily lifted his head up to catch a glimpse of her fair complexion and reddish hair, with brown eyes that pondered thoughts so very distant to him, yet he could, with the reach of his hand, touch the sanctuary that shelters her psyche. Dutch thought how a person was so safe inside their own head until the slightest social cue gave them away. He wondered if she could see through his adoring gaze.

"Don't let her get to you, Dutch." He smiled weakly at her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her onto his lap. His hands wrap around her torso. "My dear, you're like the light of the sun on a cloudy day." Ana paused, thinking back to what Miss Grimshaw warned her about. She couldn't wrap herself around his finger each time he worked his charms on her. Perhaps if she wasn't as keen on his compliments as most women are, he may rethink his usual habit of eventually tossing her away. "You don't have to woo me, Dutch. Validation ain't something I pay a lot of mind to." Dutch chuckled lowly, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear. That wasn't exactly the response he expected, something excited him about how unpredictable the woman sat on his lap could be. "You know, I do recall promising you an evening on the town back in Rhodes… I do believe Saint Denis might suit all your needs just as well. A show… some fine dining… a nice warm bath, with just you and me. No one else." Now that was something Ana couldn't resist, every bone in her body wanted time with Dutch, with no distractions or obstacles. It could be the time they finally figure out where they stand. "Alright, Dutch. You, me, Saint Denis, tomorrow." Ana planted her lips on his, giving him a brief taste of what's in store for tomorrow.

They said their goodbyes for the night. Dutch was ready to sleep the night away, Ana promised she'd join him sooner rather than later. She wanted to talk with Arthur, who was sitting by the fire with a flask, one movement away from dropping it.

"Arthur, let me guess, you're sitting there, staring into them flames, trying to solve the worl-" Arthur put a finger up to her lips when she took a seat next to him, shushing her.

"One more word and I'll toss you into the swamp." They exchanged a blank stare before bursting with child-like laughter.

"Even I can admit I ain't willing to get eaten for the sake of a joke." Their laughs trailed off, leaving the sounds of the fire crackling and crickets to fill the silence between them. John sat absent-mindedly, sharpening a piece of wood next to Charles, who sips away casually at his bottle of beer. There was an unspoken trust between the four of them, a common spirit they all shared.

Arthur finally interrupted the hushed setting. "I saw Mary a couple weeks back." John and Charles look at Arthur with an understanding, one that Ana doesn't share because she's never heard of Mary before. Her close friend knew that and was quick to explain, "we were engaged, long time ago now. Her precious father didn't like her fooling around with some outlaw, so she called it off."

Ana had always wondered why Arthur wasn't with anyone at camp, this could be the reason. "You should move past the girl, brother. She's been playing with you for too long if you ask me." Arthur huffed. He knew John was right, but something had always held him back from letting go.

"Don't know much about the lady, Arthur. Although, why don't you just find a new woman? I'm sure someone would take you." Ana had a suggestive look on her face. She knew there were at least two women at camp who would work quite well with her friend.

"If you even so much as try to set me up, girl, I will feed you to them gators." She raised her hands in defence of Arthur's playful threat.

"Alright, alright… but, what about Mary-Beth? She's a fine young lady. One who's taken a liking to yo-" She stopped when Arthur shook his head sternly, looking a bit more serious now. The other men chuckled till they saw his face.

"She's just a girl… no offence to the two of you," his hand moved casually between Ana and John, "that's how you live your lives, it ain't no business of mine. But I couldn't do that to her, at least not after…" Arthur sighed, he hadn't spoken of Eliza in years. He had enough booze in him that it wasn't unbearable like it was when he was sober. Only Dutch and Hosea knew. But he couldn't bring himself to reveal every dreadful detail of the brutal murder of his young lover and son. "It don't matter. Dying alone ain't so bad. All I need is a sunset and some wide-open space."

Ana pressed her lips together tightly. The thought of Arthur being alone in this world saddened her. She could try nudging a woman his way, sometimes all love needs is a little encouragement. "Don't talk like that, Arthur. You'll find your person, or they'll find you. Just give it some time." She gripped the muscle near his neck and gave him a friendly squeeze, making her exit while she smiled at her pleasantly quiet company. "Goodnight, boys." She was ready for sleep. Drinking, drama, and ditties had their way of wearing down all the energy one possessed. Dutch was sound asleep when she found her way to their room through the pitch-black hallway. His breathing was a peaceful sound, one that soothed her into her nightly routine.

Later on the next day…

"I ain't getting it, Ana. Why can't we just play some Five Finger Fillet? Now that's a game that I can beat you blind at." Javier huffed, crossing his arms as I defeated him for the third time in a game of checkers.

"Cause you once said it ain't a game for ladies!" I pound my fist against the table with restraint. He insisted we play a game. I'd spent the first hour teaching him how it works, I won't back down now unless I've at least won a good ten dollars.

"If I remember correctly, I said that to you when you were still chopping carrots for Mr Pearson, and quite poorly, I might add. I would never say such a thing to you now. Women who rob trains, banks and men aren't exactly ladies." He tilted his head to each side repeatedly, purposefully frowning doubtfully.

Where was he going with this? I can't quite tell if he means to insult me or not. "Then tell me, Javier, what are women liked me called?"

" _Belladonna._ " I give him a puzzled look as the word slides off his tongue smoothly.

"What will it take to get you to tell me what that word means?" He chuckles, probably taking amusement in the fact that I know no other languages besides English. My mother claimed she knew French, but never spoke it in my company. She always said a French woman can find their way to any man's heart… and their pockets.

"I'll tell you, but you have to give me back all the money you stole off me for winning this stupid game." Smart man. I need to know before it drives me mad. "Fine, you have a deal."

" _Belladonna_ in Italian means venomous woman or fair lady." I roll my eyes as he smirks.

"So, I'm a lady after all then?" I start packing up our game, we push back our chairs and stand up. I toss my winnings in his direction.

"Yes… but a venomous one." He tipped his black hat and left me. He's a good man, I'm glad I spent some time in his company.

I wipe off beads of sweat running down my neck. How I miss Valentine, nothing beats that fresh air. It was so much easier to get around. We're far away from there now, I can't see us heading back anytime soon. Suddenly, it's a person I long for, not a place. I can't remember the last time I'd spoken with John since we arrived here. It's about time I paid him a visit. He's not been outside this morning, I'd best go check his room indoors. I'm making my way to the room with a decent sized hole in the wall when I overhear a conversation between who sounds a whole lot like John and Abigail. I know it's unfair of me, but I listen in.

"It ain't that simple, Abigail. We can't just… just leave like that."

"Why not? The boy can't live here forever. He needs a real home to grow up in, John."

"This is our family. Dutch… he's done more than I could ever repay him for. Not just for me, but for you and the boy."

Abigail sighs, not sounding convinced by his reasoning. "So, you're telling me that's the only reason? Loyalty? There ain't a certain woman that's keeping you here?"

I can almost hear John gulp from a distance. "It's not like that, she's just, hell I don't know, Abigail. One thing I do know is that now ain't the time to run off. You may not believe me but Jack's safe here. I won't let anything happen to him. I promise."

Nothing but silence now. I take a peek, they're holding one another closely. Too close. She's leaning into him, John hesitates before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. A kiss that looks all too familiar to the first one we shared sober. I feel like I'm going to be sick. Wait, I am actually going to be sick. I sprint with what adrenaline I have in my system to a tree far enough away from camp, puking what feels like my guts out. I stare at the mess I've made, prompting me to feel sick again, though I look away before I vomit once more.

A brittle-boned hand is on my back as I lean against a tree, offering me a handkerchief that I eagerly accept to wipe my mouth with. "Must've been something in the stew, dear. Tilly's got it too." It's Hosea, he's too kind for his own good.

"Ugh, thank you, Hosea. We'd best warn Pearson about undercooking the meat unless he's trying to poison the lot of us." We both let out a quiet chuckle, he offers me his arm and starts accompanying me to a nearby seat. "You just sit down for a moment, I'll get you some water." I nod weakly, feeling sweat stick to my body, it's all over me now. Dutch is walking to me, he must've seen me from the balcony where he stood. Without a word, he kneels before me and presses a hand to my forehead.

"You're not well, my dear. You're as white as a sheet." I can feel a wave of nausea building in awful anticipation. Dutch holds back my loose strands of hair as I release the remainder of toxic content from my system. I stay bent over for a moment, waiting to see if there's anything left.

"Looks like we'll need to reschedule our night, my beloved," I say, wanting to laugh but not having the capacity to do so.

Dutch pushes back my hair, which is soaked in feverish sweat as he helps my debilitated frame to a more comfortable location. I spot John staring at me with concern evident in those traitorous brown eyes. I'm probably going mad from fever, but I could care less. He made me believe there was nothing going on between him and Abigail. I manage to get some words out, even if they sound like gibberish, it needs to be said. "You is a chicken burnt trapdoor." Yes, that just came out of my mouth. John looks astonished, probably because that's either the most outlandish or well-crafted insult he's ever heard. Dutch's laughter vibrates against me as he effortlessly pulls me to our bed. He lays me down on our pillow and I feel the need to express how comfortable it is. "Oh, just like a bruised peach on a mid winter's day, ain't it, Dutch?" He is going red from amusement now, not sure why. I just said it's like a cloud on a summer's day, didn't I?

"Shush now, you get some rest, you'll feel better later." I shut my eyes as he suggests. It might be better to sleep this off considering I can't seem to articulate myself properly.

…

It was near evening when Dutch shook me gently awake. I grumbled and hid my face from him. "How you feeling, dear?" he asked, how considerate but unintentionally cruel. I was dreaming of something wonderful, yet I've forgotten in my brief moments awake.

I pause, taking a second to assess how I feel. "Just fine, actually. Must've gotten it all out." Dutch put a hand to my temple and tilted his head slightly.

"You do seem better. I don't suppose you're up for the night I promised you?" The image of John and Abigail flashed into my mind. I wasn't angry, he was free to be with another woman. It still stung a bit, he had told me they weren't romantically involved. I could really use the time to process what I saw, away from John.

"You know what, let's do it. I'm starving. Let's have some fun for once!" I held onto his arm positively, he seemed to agree by the way the ends of his lips curled into a smile. "Just give me a moment to clean up, would you? I'll meet you out front." He nodded eagerly, walking back towards the door, his eyes not straying from my body. "Don't leave me waiting too long..."

Once Dutch was gone, I began looking through my things. What does a proper lady wear while on an outing with her gentleman? Not pants, that's for sure. That's when I found it, a dress I nearly forgot I owned. An off the shoulder white dress with a floral pattern. If I remember correctly, I bought this right in Saint Denis some time ago. I saw it in the window and impulsively purchased it as I dreamed of a different life. One where I was treated with dignity, for once. Something about a fine gown makes you feel respected in public. I treated it with care when I changed into it, putting my hair into a loose bun and finishing the look off with red lipstick. I could easily be mistaken for Dutch's daughter like this… I'll just avoid that thought. Forever.

I make my way over to Dutch, sticking my middle finger sarcastically at Javier who whistles at me. Dutch smiles, in an unfamiliar way. It's difficult to describe, but there's a glimmer of astonishment in his dark eyes. I suddenly feel so exposed to his naked eye, maybe the dress is too much.

"Man like me don't see many pretty things throughout his life. But I can tell you one thing, my dear, you are a beautiful sight that I won't soon forget," Dutch stood confidently, one hand on his belt, the other on his horse's reins.

His words, his face, that prominent nose, the cigar between his thick fingers, that small beauty mark on his right cheek, hair as dark as the deepest pits of the earth. I can't picture a life where I do not cherish every piece of him. I wish it wasn't true, but I've been sucked into the bottomless pit of Dutch van der Linde's world. I do not know if I can stop myself from loving him. Oh, how I wish I had a choice in the matter.

"You flatter me… come now, we have a fine night ahead of us, Dutch, I'm sure of it."

…

Anastasia and Dutch sat across from each other at the most private table they could find in an otherwise bustling saloon. This is where all the folk with cash to spare came to drink their sorrows away. Ana eyed the pockets of gentlemen and made a mental note to do a bit of robbing here later on. They'd ordered a prime rib with a side of potatoes, it was an upgrade from the poisonous stew, to say the least. Their night started off with a show at the local theatre and it was a riot. They laughed, whispered commentary in each other's ears and clapped till their hands were numb. Dutch admitted as much as he despised civilization, their entertainment wasn't half bad. The sound of drunk men hollering, and the giggles of French whores was background noise to their ongoing conversation.

"So, Tahiti, huh? I suppose mango farming in the tropics don't sound too bad," Ana half shrugged, leaning back in her chair as she sipped on a glass of red wine. She admittedly enjoyed the refreshment much more than stale beer.

"Think about it, a paradise, so far away from our problems, we wouldn't have to worry about any law catching up with us. Tell me, honestly, what do you think?" Dutch leaned forward on his elbows. They hadn't intentionally started talking business, but it came up organically.

She took a moment to think, stretching her arm over to him and taking his hands in hers. "Living off the land for the rest of our days…it's a pretty painting, one I'd like to be in. If you really want to make it there, we gotta be careful. Not stir up too much trouble. We'll never get out if the Pinkertons are up our ass." Dutch shook his head in a disappointing manner. He just wanted her to agree, without any conditions. Ana was a follower, but she could never willingly follow Dutch into certain death. He pulled away from her touch.

"Hey, don't be like that… I've got your back, Dutch. You should know well enough by now that I trust you. Anyways, let's save this talk for later, huh? It'd be nice to talk about… I don't know, what do normal folk talk about?" He exhaled a laugh through his nose. They weren't exactly a normal pair, yet they both preferred it that way.

"Who knows… I swear most of the time they just stand there looking busy." Dutch glanced at a young couple exploring each other's mouth in a very public setting, "we could share stories about ex-lovers."

"Now that's an idea. You first, Mr Van der Linde." She shuffled in her seat, preparing herself to hear the extensive list of women Dutch charmed into his bed. She leaned her chin onto her fist.

"It ain't as much as you think, my dear girl. One night don't count. I admit I've had my fair share of those in my younger days, every outlaw has. It's just the way of life." He put up three fingers, putting one down after he completed each story. "Susan Grimshaw," Ana widened her eyes, that was a surprising revelation to her, "She was an older woman, that was exciting to me at 25. I wanted to try something new and we… fell in love, for a while. It never got all that serious, she still loved a dead man. No one could ever compete with that." Ana stayed silent, giving Dutch the time he needed to talk. "Then there was Annabelle. I must've been 30 when I met her. She was your age. She was a fine, fragile woman, never meant for this life, but she didn't have much choice. We saved her from some farm in the middle of nowhere, her daddy did awful, immoral things to her," Dutch paused to inhale deeply, it was never easy to talk about Annabelle. She deserved so much more than what she got in the end. "I never truly loved until her. And then that bastard Colm killed her in the worst way imaginable. I… I always wished I could've saved her." He took a moment to recover with the help of Ana who held his hand. He almost stopped talking till he remembered Molly. "Ah, yes, then there was Miss O'Shea. We met her in Blackwater, she was fresh off the boat from Ireland. She charmed me with that accent and her wealthy upbringing and the rest is history. Until, as you know, she became a jealous hawk who watches my every move."

"Well, all things considered, you haven't done too bad for yourself." Ana smiled considerately, freeing him from her grasp.

"I do believe it's your turn, Miss Fetcher." Dutch tilted his head, awaiting her answer with bated breath. She felt herself go a bit red from the pressure, she ignored the feeling and cleared her throat. "I'm afraid my list of ex-lovers has only one man, well I should say boy, he was not a year older than I. Clayton Timmins. Son of Strawberry's mayor, an aspiring poet, though I can't speak for the quality of his work. We met while I was working for the general store in town, he left me love notes for a while, then we began meeting in secret. We spent hours in the forest or caves, any secluded area really. Then he married some well-bred blonde named Gwendoline and pretended I didn't exist. I left not much longer after that, he was a coward. I was glad to be rid of him, in the end."

"He sounds like a fool, Ana." She nodded in agreement, looking out the window at a couple stumbling through the street, occasionally stopping to eat each other's faces off. She wrinkled her nose at the sight.

"It boggles my mind how people can be so foolish after a few drinks." She shook her head, not all aware of her own tipsy state. She turned back to Dutch. Uh-oh. She knew that look, he was hungry for something else now. He blinked slowly, his eyes didn't leave any room for interpretation. Their bath was waiting in the other room. He got up and offered her his hand, they'd truly mastered the art of non-verbal communication. It only took a moment for desire to kick in.

The water steamed in such an appealing way, it felt as if her clothes were begging to come off. Dutch did all the work, pulling down her dress and leaving a trail of kisses in all the right spots. She unbuttoned his vest and shirt, pushing off his attire gracefully. He dug his hands into her hair when she left wet kisses on his neck, rapid breathing and soft moans filled the room. Once they were completely stripped of all clothing, he pulled her into the tub, splashing water all over the floor. Water continuously sneaked through the cracks of the floorboards as their movements became more rapid and passionate. They struggled to keep their love-making a secret when groans and moans made their way through an opened window.

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys the longest chapter yet! Took a bit longer but really loved writing it. Please send me your feedback and suggestions! I want to hear what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	14. Chapter 14

There's a chill in the air this early on in the morning. Light has barely crept its way onto the horizon. I love waking up at this hour, it gives me time to reflect and to read. Once everyone wakes up it's nearly impossible to get a moment of silence. I now sit with my back against the jagged texture of a tree trunk, the tips of my fingers touching a patch of moss. I read a line of text from the pages before me:

 _Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us._

If only I could understand the essence of the human heart as well as Jane Austen did. I suspect I'd be a much wiser woman if I did, though I'd likely never be swept off my feet by a notorious outlaw and a boyishly handsome gunslinger if I were Miss Austen. If I remember correctly, she never married. Smart woman. Marriage is nothing more than a pretty piece of paper. It means nothing, which is why I doubt I'll ever go through with matrimony myself. I sympathize with young ladies who have no choice in the matter, a marriage without love is the unseen imprisonment of the female sex in this century. For those of us who are not so suppressed, it's a wretched thing to witness. I often wonder if sexual freedom is the only form of liberation most women have unless we're willing to adopt masculine roles, of course. I've never grasped why roles must be labelled by gender in the first place. This world traps us under a steel boot from the moment we're born. That's why people like us deviate from societal norms, I suppose. Freedom is all I've ever asked for, yet this supposedly free country has offered me nothing but eternal incarceration. That's why I'll fight for the life that we all deserve.

One thing I miss about travelling alone is that no one intrudes upon my privacy, which is what happens when Micah walks over to me, I'm dreading each step he takes. I figure it's safer to ignore him, so I pretend that I'm still reading.

"Whatcha doin' there cowgirl?" I nearly throw up at his use of the term cowgirl. Does he honestly believe he's being charming? Doubt it.

"If it's conversation you're looking for, Micah. I suggest the mirror, that's the only place you'll find it." He huffs in tainted amusement, seems like he finds humour in my cold suggestion.

"Oh, you're real funny, ain't you? Must've got that line from your old buddy Arthur… you two sure are close, huh?" Micah must really think he's the smartest man on earth to suggest such a thing. He's way out of line, though I doubt it's much more than a poorly thought-out insult to piss me off. I can't even begin to imagine what he's up to, I've got to find hard evidence on him sooner rather than later now

I toss my book carelessly to the side. "My friendships ain't none of your concern, Mr Bell. You best leave me alone now, go watch the grass grow if you're that bored." I walk away with determination towards the main door of our temporary home. Thankfully he doesn't follow me. I'll need to get him away from camp so that I can see what he's hiding in his belongings. That'll be a start, I presume.

I'm turning the corner when I crash into a dark brown-haired man, not significantly taller than me. I catch a glimpse of tanned skin. The scent of a fresh cigarette lingers on him, I'm so close I can taste it. It's familiar and safe like the taste of coffee in the morning. I want to embrace it, embrace him, but I can't. I haven't even begun to resolve how I feel about witnessing a kiss between John and Abigail.

He looks startled, pausing to recover before he apologizes uneasily. "Oh, um, sorry 'bout that. Thought no one else was up." He suavely leans on a nearby wall, getting comfortable for what he clearly expects to be a long conversation. "Where've you been hiding, Fetcher? Ain't seen you for a while…" Déjà vu practically slaps me in the face when he moves his forearm above my head, not leaving me much personal space.

"I've been busy, John. So have you, it seems." I nearly spat my words at him until I reminded myself that I don't have the right to be angry with him, I just feel betrayed because he didn't call things off when Abigail came back into the picture. And here he is thinking he can have me, along with the mother of his child. That couldn't be what he wanted to teach his boy, could it?

He presses his lips into a line, stepping back when he detects my mood. I don't often address him by his first name, he doesn't appear to be fond of it. "You still got a fever? Or are you just mad at me for something I ain't aware of? Whatever it is, I'm real sorry… just please don't call me that name again, what was it? Chicken something?" He doesn't have a clue what I saw, how could he? Frankly, his sarcasm isn't cute right now, it's making me want to punch that unbecoming look off his face. I might as well just tell him, it's not like I have anything to lose.

"I saw you and Abigail kiss, you fool. What were you thinking, huh?!" I press an accusing finger below the exposed part of his chest, "is that the kind of man you want to teach Jack to be? That there ain't nothing wrong with having a wife and a woman on the side? I thought better of you, John. Looks like Dutch was right, you've got a shit ton of growing up to do."

He grasps me by the wrist and harshly throws my hand down. With each insult I sent his way, his face got stiffer. "My god, Ana, the woman was thanking me for watching out for the boy and… and it just happened, I don't know why but I told her that it wasn't a good idea after. Even if it were true, what makes you the better person?! You're just some stupid girl that wants every man in this damn camp to notice her! I bet the only reason you cozied up to me is so that Dutch would take more of a liking to you, and don't you tell me that ain't true."

My knuckles are starting to hurt from clenching my fists too hard, gritted teeth send a sharp pain along my jaw. I wish I could find the willpower to say something, anything, or even just hit him, however, I'm left staring at the ground with blurry vision. I won't let a single tear be seen by him, the thought of being so weak before him makes my skin crawl, I turn on the heel of my boot and walk without a destination in mind. There's hardly a second of hesitation until the sound of his echoing footsteps catch up with me.

"Just walking away, that's your solution? Where's the Ana who would've punched me in the face by now? This ain't like you." I dig my hands into my hair in anger with myself, whipping around in his direction when we're outside. "What do you want from me, John? You knew what this thing was from day one," I motion between the two of us exhaustedly, "If you don't like it, leave, it's as simple as that. I've got no interest in hurting you or being hurt, alright?"

He laughs in disbelief while shaking his head lightly. "You're fooling yourself if you think we're just having some plain, old fun. You're really telling me it's just about the sex? Because what we did felt… it felt different than that if you ask me."

I know what he means. The unbreakable eye contact, the loving compliments whispered into each other's ears, pointless laughs we shared, the time he spent attending to my every need and the prolonged period which I spent in his arms afterwards. It was different with Dutch, we fought for power which I equally enjoyed, but with John, it felt like more of a partnership. I don't know if I can admit it, so I just shrug. He heads over to me, scooping up my hand from where it dangled by my side. "I don't know how to say it, neither do you, I guess. That's fine. Just know I care, Fetcher. This isn't no game to me. I'm sorry for what I said."

I finally look at him, nodding uncertainly though with a hint of hope. "Me too. Thanks, Marston." I dart my tongue across my lips, recounting an unforgettable talk between Abigail and me when I promised I wouldn't stop him from being the father Jack deserves. "Just do me a favour, Marston, when the time comes, don't look back, not for me or anyone. That boy is gonna need you more than anything, alright?"

He's uncomfortable but doesn't dismiss me as he would've before. "I-I know. You're right, you're always right, ain't you?" John's smile lifts my mood like a ray of sunshine breaking its way through a thick, grey cloud.

"Not always, trust me." The tips of his rough fingers play mindlessly with the end of my loose braid that sits gently on my chest. Sometimes John reminds me of what it feels like to fall in love with a boy for the first time. A feeling that cannot be contained accompanied by knowing stares, silly jokes and playful touching.

"You know a lot more than I did at your age, that's for sure." His gaze elevates to my face. My age has always been an enigma to whomever I meet, a baby face with a developed body does that to a person. John speaks as if he's decades older than me despite only a six-year difference between us. A bit of age between man and woman is fairly common these days, although the twelve years that separate Dutch and I is looked down upon by polite society, not like we care much anyways.

"My mama taught me how to be resourceful, prepared me for the day when I wouldn't have anyone watching my back..." I laugh at the thought of a particularly cruel lesson she taught me, "when I was around eight, she blindfolded me, dragged me to the middle of some cold, dark forest and left me with two matches and a knife. Told me to count to a hundred then to find my way back. Took me two days, I was freezing, starving, and exhausted when I got back and all she did was ask me to go buy a dozen apples at the store. She was never a kind woman, I guess."

John looks a bit disgusted by the story, in theory, it sounds cruel, but I'd be nothing more than a lowlife if it wasn't for her. "My ma died when I was born, and my father was never much more than an angry drunk. I get it, that's probably why we ended up here, right?"

I shrug neutrally in response since I'm not sure I fully agree. A part of me truly wants to believe that I chose this life. "Maybe, who knows really…" I notice a few groggy souls slowly roaming around the camp between yawns and stretches, enough time has passed that the sun now shines brightly onto us. I can see Dutch smoking his morning cigar from the balcony with untamed curls and an open shirt. Admittedly, I was hoping to at least sneak a kiss in with John, but I don't want to stir up trouble with everyone around. We share a noticeable look of disappointment until he makes a suggestion. "Got a lead on some banker payroll making its way to a spot north of Valentine. How 'bout you and I hit it?"

Some action sounds like just what I need. I nod eagerly with a smirk, matching his pace as we head to where our horses are hitched.

…

John and Ana are ready to move at any moment while observing the road the payroll wagon should be taking, at least according to John's acquaintance at a train station in Rhodes. After several minutes of scouting like eagles in search of their prey, Ana figures a bit of talk won't hurt their focus. She keeps her hands tight on the reins of her horse just in case.

"I surely hope this ain't some attempt to get me alone, Marston. All you gotta do is ask at this point." She laughs silently to herself, enjoying teasing him once again, completely unaware of the brief side glance he sends her way. John can't help but notice how well that white shirt and those flannel trousers fit her. In fact, they accentuate every familiar curve of her body.

"That'd be a damn fine plan, don't you think? Most gentlemen would bring their ladies to a saloon, not me though. An open field of grass sets the mood more than a bottle of whiskey." They share an amused chuckle, resisting every urge to make eye contact.

"It sure would be. Seems like we've got a habit of fornicating in the same places that cavemen did. How romantic." She raises an eyebrow, lifting her chin when she thinks she sees something coming from around the corner. Their conversation continues when they realize it's just a hunter heading home.

"Is that a complaint I hear, Fetcher? Thought you enjoyed them remote locations, with nothing but the deer and rabbits listening…" Ana feels a warm tingling sensation make its way from the source to the tips of her fingers and toes. She wipes her flushed cheeks and clears her throat.

John could almost hear the effect he had on her, she always got quiet while fighting an urge so strong she struggled to breathe naturally. They wanted each other, but it would have to wait. Their eyes widen when the wagon they've been waiting for finally arrives.

"Come on, follow me!" Ana follows his lead diligently, pulling up her bandana before they get any closer. She reaches for her revolver and grips it with steady hands. The sweaty, anxious feeling she used to get had disappeared after more experience with robbing. A stagecoach felt like child's play to her now. They finally catch up with the carriage that had sped up when a passenger up front noticed the pair behind them moving at a suspiciously fast pace.

Ana aims her gun at the man driving. "Slow this thing down before I shoot you mister!" she shouts as intimidatingly as she can. John's raspy, loud voice seems to send a stronger message, "you heard the lady, stop it before we kill both of you!" They reluctantly come to a halt, raising their shaking hands.

A man with glasses and a dirty red vest pleads to Ana, "P-Please ma'am, we'll lose our jobs if-" She throws him off his seat, knocking him out with a hard hit in the head. She jumps off her horse and heads to the back of the wagon while John takes care of the other man. John joins her once he silences the stranger with a punch.

"Shall we drive off with the whole thing or shoot the lock?" she asks while looking for witnesses down the road.

"Don't wanna leave these two with no way of getting home, I'll get the money, you watch the road."

She does as John says without a moment of delay, rotating her head every few moments so she doesn't miss any incoming strangers. When she spots a distant figure in the distance, she turns back to John who has just finished collecting the cash. "Come on, let's get out of here!" They move to their mounts hastily, escaping the scene of the crime before someone has the chance to see them. They take a shortcut through the field instead of the road, riding till it's safe.

"How's the take?" she asks curiously, looking back to see if there's anyone in the area. They do look distrustful at the pace they're going after all.

John smiles, that robbery couldn't have gone more smoothly, and it sure was worth it. "Real good. Must be at least a thousand." Ana raises her eyebrows in response, she was expecting less. "Nice work back there, Marston. You just might be a lot more useful than most realize." They exchange a pleasant smile before stopping at a secluded spot in a forest. It's not likely the law will chase them that far. Even if they do, they'll be hidden here.

Ana looks up to the sky, it's already dark and the stars are out. She notes how there isn't a cloud in the sky or wind in the air. A perfect night for camping outdoors. "Marston, why don't we just camp here for the night? I'm sure folks won't start missing us till the morning." John agrees with a gentle nod. The two of them hitch their horses and start setting up camp.

Once the fire is lit and their tent is up, Ana cracks her stiff neck, sighing at the relief. John offers her a sip of whiskey from the bottle he had in his satchel, awaiting to provide relief to chapped lips and dry throats. She cringes at the burning feeling it leaves in her throat.

"Thanks," she mumbles softly while handing the bottle back to him, their skin brushes against each other when he reaches for it, they pause and make eye contact. He pulls the bottle back, smirking at her when he sits it down near the fire. John watches as she undoes her braid, letting her wavy hair free and brushing it with her fingers. He shuffles closer to her.

"Are you trying to make a move on me, Mar-" John silences her with a spur-of-the-moment kiss. She eases into it after the feeling of startle wears off. She coos meaningless sounds of bliss while he lets out a low masculine sounding moan. He digs a hand into her hair and pulls on it lightly. They separate their faces but don't move far from each other.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, Fetcher. Now, what were you saying?" he asks quietly all while knowing how wild he's driving her.

She laughs out of mild shock, feeling taken back by his smooth demeanour. What is there to do but outmaneuver him, she wonders. She gracefully stands up before him and begins removing her clothing. "I haven't got much left to say, Marston." He leans back and watches her attentively, excitement building in both of them for what's next.

The next day…

John and I had spent a long night together, to say the least. Trying to wipe the smile off my face upon arrival back at camp was unsurprisingly difficult. Reconnecting with him was likely foolish in the long run, but I just can't seem to let him go. There's no point in resisting till it truly matters, I suppose. I do hope I'm not misguiding myself with every choice I make.

When I got back, I spoke with Arthur in private about snooping through Micah's things, he told me he'd bring him on a simple household robbery job with Javier today. I'm waiting for their departure from the porch with Sadie by my side. The challenge now is how to actually do it without being questioned… and it looks like I might need someone's help. When I spot the three of them leaving, Arthur looks back at me and gives me a subtle nod. The time to act is now. I lean over to Sadie, I think I can trust her. I don't want to risk getting John in trouble.

"Mrs Adler, can I ask a favour of you?" She looks pretty interested as I mumble the question to her, I continue without being prompted, "Arthur and I think…. well, we think there might be a rat in the gang, we ain't sure so we've been looking for proof and I need to look through someone's things…" It's best not to reveal exactly who it is unless I have to. She responds in a volume equally as quiet as mine with furrowed brows. "That wouldn't surprise me, considering all the trouble you folk just happen to run into. What do you need me to do? Set a tree on fire?"

I jerk my head back a bit, convincing her was almost too easy. She shrugs off my confusion and explains further. "What? Don't look so surprised. You and Arthur seem like decent folk, I doubt you're planning on harming the gang. Plus, I'm bored out of my mind, so I'll play along. Just tell me what I need to do." I can't tell if Sadie is crazy or brave. There's definitely something I like about her.

"Let's save the fire for a last resort," I pause, making sure there's no one nearby, "I need you to go on lookout, wait a bit, then come back screaming saying you saw what looked like O'Driscoll Boys near camp. Most important thing is that you make enough noise so everyone comes to see what's going on. That should give me just enough time. Can you do it?" She nods confidently along with my words. "Sounds easy enough." We sit in silence for a few moments longer, she gets up and intentionally gives me a friendly wave goodbye. I need to do something, just sitting here makes it obvious I'm waiting for her cue. I head further into camp and pour myself a cup of coffee, taking small sips next to Mary-Beth, who is reading another one of her romance novels.

"How's the reading going?" I ask nonchalantly, she looks up with a quaint smile. "Not bad, this one's a pretty easy read. I can lend it to you once I'm done if you'd like?" I finish another sip before responding. "Sure thing, thanks." She goes back to her reading, it's another few minutes till I hear Sadie's hoarse yell.

"Dutch, Hosea, I saw them O'Driscoll Boys outside of camp!" Everyone starts heading towards the commotion, I pretend to join them, waiting for everyone to get ahead of me till I separate from the pack. "Get inside everyone, now!" Dutch's voice cracks as he commands the gang, I need to hurry, he'll start looking for me.

I crouch by Micah's bedroll where a chest sits across from me. Locked, of course. Micah may be an idiot, but he wasn't that stupid. It takes me only a few moments to pick the lock. Booze, money, cigarettes, some old rusty ring, what's this? I pick up a leather-bound book. A journal? Micah Bell has a journal? Maybe he's stupider than I thought. I start flipping the pages, scanning the content for anything noteworthy. Oh, he sure doesn't like me, Arthur or John. In fact, he refers to me as "the stupid whore" more times than I can count. Not that it matters what he thinks, I can't get distracted, therefore I keep on looking. And that's when I see it, a list of names and numbers:

 _Dutch van der Linde: $5,000_

 _Arthur Morgan: $5,000_

 _Hosea Matthews: $5,000_

 _Javier Escuella: $2,000_

 _John Marston: $1,000_

 _Bill Williamson: $1,000_

 _Sean McGuire: $1,000_

 _Charles Smith: $500_

 _Anastasia Fetcher: $450_

 _Total: $19,950_

I've found it. That fool, this page will be the death of him. Dutch won't have a doubt of his betrayal once he sees this. I rip out the page and shove it into my pocket. I can hear my name being called, they must've figured out there wasn't any O'Driscolls. Before I'm even close to the group, Micah comes from around the corner, bumping right into me. I stumble back, trying to hide any panic evident in my expression. Shit, why is he back already? He crosses his arms and casts a harsh glare onto me.

"Mind telling me what the fuck you was doing looking through my things missy?"

A/N: Sorry for the delay on getting this one out, hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I'm having a bit of a dilemma… I literally don't know who Ana should pick near the end, please tell me who you guys think Ana has a stronger bond with! Or which love interest is more well written. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	15. Chapter 15

Think, think of something, anything. Well, not anything. It has to be reasonable enough to fool Micah. I've been lying straight to the faces of men for so long, but this just happens to be a lot riskier than before, which is why I'm struggling to suppress the feeling of intangible anxiety. His wrinkled face is pressing for me an answer, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"My… my book, where is it? I know you stole it, just hand it over." His dead stare lasts long enough to make me uncomfortable. Did he buy my excuse? It's the best story I thought of considering the dire circumstances. He bursts with laughter, the kind a cruel boy releases when he finds out the quietest girl in town has a crush on him, obliterating any speck of confidence with his rejection. But Micah is not that boy, and I am not that girl. I stand up straight, waiting impatiently till he's finished.

"Keep your pants on girly, I just borrowed it to see how much you'd miss it." He removes the book from underneath his pillow. If there is a god somewhere up there, he just did me one hell of a favour. He hands the book over to me, except when I pull on it, he doesn't let go. I silently gulp.

He speaks with a poison in his eyes that belongs to the nastiest sort of man. "Does that mean when you heard them O'Driscoll Boys were seen outside of camp, your first thought was to go look for your precious little book?"

I tug on the stolen possession hard enough that it escapes his grasp. "No. I figured now was as good a time as any when I heard it was safe… Take anything of mine again and you can kiss goodbye to your right hand. I'm sure it's a favourite of yours so I suggest you think before you act next time, Mr Bell." He doesn't have the chance to respond since I'm gone in a split second. There's nothing more I'd love to do than expose the rat right now, but I need to discuss strategy with Arthur. One wrong move and he could convince Dutch that it's not what it looks like. Don't get me wrong, Dutch is smart, but he cares too much for his own good, and caring equals trust most of the time with him.

Everyone seems to have calmed down and dispersed once there was no immediate threat found, although a bit agitated by the false alarm. Arthur and I exchange a meaningful look, taking a seat next to each other naturally on the edge of a worn-down fountain. He hands me a cigarette burnt down halfway, I inhale a thick cloud of smoke.

"Find anything?" he mumbles, not looking at me.

I spot a deer near the edge of camp. It stares cautiously at me, running off from fear of the slightest hint of civilization. Sometimes I wish I was one of them, life would be simple and serene. "I did, just what we were looking for," I pause to lower my voice even more, "gotta be careful, you know him, he could find a way to pin it on us. We'll talk later."

He agrees with a low grunt, we sit in loaded silence for a bit, passing the cigarette back and forth till it's done. Arthur breaks the comfortable feeling between us with a random question. "How old are you? 24?" I guess I've never told him my age. Funny.

I huff out a gentle laugh. "20... could be 21 actually, don't track the days well enough to know for sure."

He looks back at me in disbelief. "I thought you was older. You don't act much like girls your age."

"Oh? Tell me, Morgan, how do most girls my age act?" He looks over to where Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly, who are giggling over some unknown reason.

"Silly. Don't get me wrong, silly ain't always bad. I was silly at your age, drinking, killing, robbing, sleeping with plenty of women," he chuckles at his own realization, "guess I still do most of that except the last one. I'm too old for loving anyhow."

"Ain't no one too old for loving, Arthur. Especially you, you got a good heart, I know it. You just gotta let someone in beside Mary. Sounds like she's just stringing you along for her own pleasure. You need a better woman, a woman like…" I stop to consider my suggestion. At first, I thought Mary-Beth would be a good fit for him, though she can be a bit timid. "Like Sadie. You don't gotta say nothing now, just think about it, please?"

He tears his gaze away from where Sadie stands on lookout in her yellow blouse partially covered with thick blonde hair. He opens his mouth to speak but we're interrupted by Dutch calling out to us, we turn around to see what he wants.

"Come on you lovebirds, if we're gonna make it to this party… we sure as shit better clean up." Dutch looks enthusiastic as he marches with Hosea by his side. Arthur and I share a look of dread before he speaks up. "You serious? We really gotta do this?" He throws his arms up a bit like a sleepy child being dragged to church on a Sunday morning.

Hosea smirks, appearing amused by the upcoming scenario we're about to be thrown into. "Oh indeed we are, Arthur. Old friend Dutch van der Linde has finally shown his true colours… social climbing."

The idea of being stuffed into some tight dress with a headache-inducing hairdo is not one that interests me. I put my hand on my hip when Dutch stops in front of me. "You boys have fun… I have very urgent business to attend to involving a hot air balloon that'll fly us all to Tahiti! Bye-bye now!" Dutch stops me by grabbing onto my wrist gently before I escape, his amusing look of sarcastic punishment is noticeable through his eyes and mouth. A look I'm all too familiar with now.

"We're going to need at least one lady to accompany us… that fine face of yours will fit the role perfectly if I do say so myself." The old Dutch charm is sappy yet effective. "Fine, but don't expect me to behave, Van der Linde." His interest is peaked as he raises an eyebrow, those lustful eyes of his don't linger too long since we're not alone.

"You two ever hear of a thing called not seducing each other in front of other people?" Arthur asks wittily with a crooked smile.

"Alright, alright… that horrendous snake Bronte has invited us to the ball, Cinderella, so my suggestion is we go get you a gown." We all join in on Dutch's laughter as he gracefully motions to Arthur's figure.

I suppose it's just a party. It could be fun to put on my act for rich men like I used to, what's the worst that could happen anyways.

…

Anastasia sits between Dutch and Arthur, across from Hosea and Bill in some fancy carriage they hired for the night. The five of them haven't been able to control their laughter over outlandish jokes shared on their way to the party. The particularly unbelievable story that had left Ana with tears was how Hosea's horse once threw him into a pigpen and ran off, resulting in him walking while covered from head to toe in mud for three hours to get back to camp. Dutch claimed they thought he was some mad man and they'd nearly shot him. Once the laughter began to die down, Dutch looks at each of his comrades while recovering from a near breathless state. "We are ridiculous!" He pours more champagne into a nearly empty glass, topping off everyone's drinks afterwards.

"Utterly," responds Hosea between a couple coughs. His illness has a tendency of bugging him when he laughs too hard, he thought it was sort of ironic.

"I suppose we'll fit right in then. Bet there's no shortage of ridiculous folk at these parties." Ana says jokingly, though with a hint of seriousness since that is her actual prediction of the event. One could only imagine the types of characters the city's biggest scoundrel invites to his gatherings.

"You know, I ain't never been to a ball in my life." Arthur chuckles while refilling his recently emptied glass. He figured a buzz would get him through the night without wanting to die.

"Nor have I, if I'm being honest," responds Dutch with a sheepish yet accepting expression. The notorious leader never thought much of extravagant dining and formal dancing. He made do with booze and some catchy tunes just fine throughout his life.

"Looks like we got more than one Cinderella in this pumpkin tonight, boys! You best not leave behind a glass slipper because I bet it won't fit all that well." Ana and Hosea clink their glasses together as she tipsily blurts out straight sarcasm, the older lad appearing to find her comment rather hilarious.

"I used to quite often… there could be fine pickings." Hosea's eyes light up as he recalls his early days of robbing. People kept such poor watch over their valuables back then you could walk away rich after one night if you knew what you were doing.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! No robbing! We are here to make real contacts and that means real money. I don't know who exactly. But all I know for sure is that we are going to a party at the mayor's house and the guest of honour is the work crook in town! I'm sure that we will find something." They all burst into uncontrollable laughter once again, carelessly tapping their glasses together all at once.

Dutch offers Ana a helping hand on her way out of the backseat, she thanks him with a polite nod. She can hear the sweet sound of violins playing from the backyard, yellow lighting sets an elegant mood, she's never seen so many men in tuxes and women in ballgowns. It's all perfect at a distance, but as you take a closer look you can see women unable to breath from tying their corsets too tightly. Men drunkenly groping maids and scheming about screwing over those that aren't as well off as them. It reeks of expensive perfume and corruption. Ana hates everything about this world, she finds herself questioning why Dutch thinks this is worth their time. If anything, Bronte just wants to use the gang to do some dirty work. She pats down her midnight blue gown as their guns are taken for temporary storage because of a previous "unpleasant incident" as the guards put it. Ana can't help but smirk when they don't bother checking her for weapons, she guesses the thought of a woman being able to handle a gun isn't something that crosses their minds. She had concealed a small pistol underneath her dress just in case, though she wondered how a woman could possibly fight in such an enormous thing. It's unpractical, really.

"Follow me, gentlemen… oh, and my lady. Signor Bronte has been expecting you, I believe. He's looking forward to seeing all of you." They follow the servant of Bronte with nimble steps and observant eyes. Ana internally chuckles at the thought of how much money they could make if they just robbed the party. She was sure it'd be more than anything that snake has to offer them. When they step onto a marble floor so clean you can see your own reflection, Ana begins to feel out of place. Inside the heart of so much wealth is something she'd never experienced before. She felt as if everyone could see that she didn't belong like she was nothing more than the descendant of some poor idiots. Arthur evidently feels the same way when they share a look of uncertainty.

"Hosea, Bill, you go on and join the party while we pay respects to Signor Bronte… Arthur, Anastasia, you're with me." The reluctant pair of outlaws follow Dutch to where Bronte stands surrounded by fellow Italian men, who look eager at the chance to please their boss. Ana is sure to accept a drink on her way in.

"Ah the angry cowboys, you've arrived, and you've washed! Even brought a beautiful woman with you!" Bronte greets them enthusiastically before spitting out some insult about their lack of regular cleanliness in Italian. He shakes the hand of Dutch and Arthur then kisses Ana's stylishly.

"I don't believe I've ever been to such an impressive festivity in all my days, Signor Bronte. Thank you for having us as your guests." Arthur and Dutch notice an immediate change in the way Ana moves and talks. She's charming her way right to that slimy bastard's heart, or something a bit more vulgar than his heart. It might be worth it to get him to fancy her, so he doesn't have the gang arrested and hanged, she thought. He looks smitten enough by performance.

"Oh yes, it's quite something indeed, though I'm not quite sure what, Miss…?"

Ana responds in the blink of an eye. "Claire Miller." There was no way she was giving him her full name.

Dutch interrupts, leaning on a railing that's a perfectly pure shade of white. "So, this is Saint Denis high society…" his words are laced pretend admiration for this way of life, he waits for Bronte to nod before he continues. "And all these people are your friends?"

Bronte huffs cruelly at his use of the word friends. "Oh no, not exactly. But they're certainly afraid of me, I assure you."

The Italian goes on to point out various powerful men he has under his thumb. Ana finds it tedious and unimpressive. What kind of man can take pride in so much power? Surely not a man she could ever respect. Her eyes search the crowd as she blocks out the pestering noise of Bronte's rant. The wealthy blend in like hundreds of birds momentarily marking their territory. Ana sees nothing but bland faces of desperate women and greedy men, the longer she spends here, the more revolting it all is. And then she spots four men who couldn't look any more different from everyone else no matter how hard they try. Unkept hair, grown out beards, dirty skin, undone collars and cheap clothing. Who could they be and what brought them here, she wondered. Anyone can see they're not rich, if she had to guess, she'd say they're outlaws. They're trying to blend in, still practically everyone there is sending them dirty looks.

"Ah yes, those are some of Johnson's Posse. Wild men they are, they do some jobs for me but I'm growing tired of their sloppiness. Their leader, William Johnson, though I have it on good authority that it's not his real name… something with an F, I forget. Anyhow, he is a brutal man. Leaves a mess behind whenever I give him a job. Maybe you'll get rid of him for me someday." Ana finally pays close attention to Bronte's commentary. William Johnson. She knew that name. It gave her an unbearable feeling of uneasiness as she tried to recall where she had heard it. It felt like a wild animal was clawing its way through her skull, she needed to remember on her own, asking Bronte would be way too suspicious. Next to her, the crime lord was agitated he couldn't remember the real name of William Johnson, he looked to one of his faithful followers for an answer. The unnamed man spoke plainly.

"His name is Kenneth Fetcher, Signor Bronte."

Ana grips onto the railing to contain the rush of disbelief that floods every corner of her mind. She nearly faints at the sound of his name, her father's name. Her mother never said his name aloud, but she had found it carved underneath their dining table at the age of eight. Then a few years later, she found an old photo of her parents buried in their backyard, the same name was printed on the back of the photo. After that, she was positive that was his name. This was no coincidence.

Dutch and Arthur conceal their confusion as to why this man shares a last name with Ana. When they spot how tense she is, they figure he isn't a stranger to her. She can't bear to look up, if he's there, what would she do? It's not like he would recognize her. There's a part of her that craves the satisfaction of looking him in the eye and saying who she is. Her mind wanders off to something her mother once said to her:

 _"_ _Do me a favour, Anastasia, you ever see that bastard, you look him right in the eyes and you say your name. He'll remember it, trust me. Watching him squirm, that'll be the best revenge I could ask for. After that, it's up to you. Hell, kill him if you want, not like I care. I'll be long gone by then."_

She loosens her grip on the railing, exhaling subtly. Without overthinking it, she forces her stare back onto the crowd, narrowing in on the men again. She inspects each of their faces more closely. There he is with same brown eyes as her. He's younger than she expected, looks around Dutch's age which isn't much of a surprise to her. She had imagined him to appear more intimidating, but his round face has an opposite effect. If she didn't know better, he'd look like a decent fellow. It was time for her to do what her mother had asked.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to rejoin the party. Enjoy yourselves, I'll see you later." Ana tries to act as normal as possible. She keeps her shaking hands behind her back while nodding politely. Dutch and her share an understanding when their eyes meet. He can tell she needs to deal with whatever is going on. He lowers his head, reminding her to be careful given their delicate surroundings. She says nothing else before swiftly withdrawing to the hub of the party. She travels through a maze of people who don't care enough to move for someone else's sake. Her focus fixates on her father when she spots him gulping down his fifth glass of champagne. He eyes the jewellery of rich women as they pass by. It seems they share the common interest of thieving. The closer she is, the more of herself she can see in his features. Reddish hair, pointy nose and long eyelashes. She's not far now, he looks back at her. He winks at her, she wants to throw up. Before she can utter a word, he speaks up in a deep voice.

"Mister Bronte send you to keep me some company? I didn't know he liked dressing up his whores nowadays… ain't seen you before, Miss?" His voice is the only daunting thing about him. Ana feels a mix of disgust and anger towards him. He's just as vile as her mother had described him to be. She used to complain that he preyed on every young woman in town. He continues on since she hadn't responded for a moment too long, "You speak English? I thought I told him I don't like no foreign girls."

She dares to force her hateful glare upon him, he stiffens a bit. "My name is Anastasia Fetcher. We've met before, Kenneth."

He furrows his brows in confusion. It took him a moment to recall the child he had twenty years ago. Nonetheless, he knew it was her. He never fully forgot her; she had been suppressed in his mind for years though.

"Well, I'll be damned… it is you, ain't it? What are the chances of you turning up here… You're real pretty like your mama. She around? I'd love to-"

Ana had heard enough already. What sort of father talks to his child like this after leaving them twenty years ago? He's acting like she's some old friend he hasn't seen in two years. She keeps her voice at a moderate volume, the rage is still noticeable. "Dead. I doubt she'd wanna see you if she was alive."

"Shame. So, what've you been up to since… well since you was a baby I guess." He chuckles drunkenly. Ana comes to the realization that nothing she says right now matters.

With a hand on her hip, she degrades him with every word. "Looks like you're the same drunk that left us all them years ago. I'm not sure what I was expecting, after all, she warned me about the sort of man you is. The kind of man who cares about nothing besides money, booze and sex. I have nothing but contempt for you, nothing." She stops to lower her voice, whispering harshly now. "You're lucky I don't kill you. It'd probably be a waste of my time. Who knows maybe I'll come find you later. You best watch your back, Kenneth."

"What are you going on about girl?" Instead of answering, she simply shakes her head before walking away quickly. Now all she wants is to go home and forget his face forever. A familiar grip stops her from leaving by the arm.

"Where you going? Who was that feller?" asks Arthur, worry in his blue eyes.

"It doesn't matter, I'll… I'll tell you later. Tell Dutch I'm heading back to camp, please." He lets her go with some level of hesitation. The woman clearly needed to get out.

She steals an unoccupied horse nearby, feeling anxious to get home. This night had turned out to be even more of an ordeal than she expected.

…

I'm on my way into camp until a sudden shout stops me. "Who's there?!" Raspy, strong. Must be John. I respond weakly. "It's just me, Marston." I emerge from the darkened forest. He puts his gun away and leads the random horse I stole to the hitching posts. It's not much of a mount but it got the job done. He grabs me by the waist and helps me down.

"You're early. Something happen?" John is calm, his presence is quite the relief.

I sigh and attempt to rub the tired out of my eyes. "Well, where to begin… Bronte is a madman out to use Dutch, everyone in that damn city is insane or just completely rotten to the core. Oh, and my father is the head of a gang who works for Bronte! Ain't that fine?" I thought sarcasm might make me feel a bit better but saying it out loud is just depressing. John stares at me blankly, trying to wrap his head around the news.

"You serious?" He rests his hands on my shoulders, I nod with a grimace.

"He's awful, Marston. Made me feel like less than nothing." John pulls me into a hug. I dig my face into his neck.

"Forget about him. Men like him ain't worth it." I shut my eyes for a moment, feeling soothed by the feeling of John rubbing my back. I look up at him, stating my response as nothing more than a fact. "I gotta kill him, John. I do."

A/N: Sorry this took so long, school is kicking my ass. Thank you for the kind reviews, they honestly inspire me to write and overall make my day. Please be sure to comment reviews/feedback or who you think Ana should pick! (Btw, next chapter will be a little bit since I'm going away for the weekend.)

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	16. Chapter 16

Anastasia gazes without much thought or intent at her reflection that ripples through water disturbed by a breeze. She'd ventured out to the edge of the camp to find a relatively private spot to clean herself. A bucket of water and a cloth sat in front of her crossed legs, she found herself procrastinating, what exactly she is avoiding is a mystery to her. All she knew is that she's perfectly comfortable sitting there until she has no choice but to move.

The water stills, there's nothing left to distract her from her recollection of last night. It had started off as a rather pleasant evening, Ana hadn't laughed that much since in what felt like forever. The stuffy air, the obnoxious fake laughter of the rich and mistreatment of servants had spoiled her mood somewhat. And then there was her father, of course. Ana bites the inside of her cheek harshly. She hates calling him her father, so she promises herself to only refer to him as Kenneth from now on. He is many things, a drunk, a bastard, a lowlife. But he will never be her father again in her eyes. Ana wishes she could burn his face out of her brain, though she may never be able to. She sees him in herself. This is the single thought that causes her to look away from the bucket of allegedly hollow liquid. A frown emerges on her face when she contemplates how the human mind has an unbearable talent for digging one's thoughts into a bottomless pit of irrepressible emotions. To break herself out of an internal spiral, she dips her hands smoothly into the water and splashes her face, sighing at how it cools her on such a hot day. She was originally hoping to wash her hair, but her only bar of soap had gone missing, it wouldn't surprise her if Micah had stolen that along with her book. She shakes her head lightly with a small smile at the thought of Micah smelling like roses. It might be an improvement from the scent of sweat and booze he so often reeked of, it was truly repellent. Without a doubt, Micah was another thing troubling her to the point of exhaustion. It kept her from sleeping much. She reminded herself to be cautious and to speak with Arthur about their plan as soon as it was safe to do so. There wasn't much she could do at the present moment without driving herself mad, so she lifted up the bucket of water and slowly poured it over her hair, wishing it would wash away every dreadful thought that was crossing her mind this morning. It seems that her wish came true when she smiles at the refreshing sensation it leaves behind.

She turns in the direction of confident footsteps approaching while squeezing water out of her hair. There stood Dutch. Hands on his belt, with one foot toward. His standard red vest was eye-catching as always. "There you are, my dear. Figured you'd be more difficult to find considering you turned out to be the Cinderella of the ball last night. Where'd you run off to?"

"I'm sorry… this might sound absurd but you've gotta know, Dutch. My fath- I mean, William Johnson, well his real name is Kenneth Fetcher as you learned last night. He's the one I told you about back in Rhodes, on the poster I found. Only god knows how he ended up working for that crook Bronte. I don't know much about him. All I do know is that he ain't a good man. He did real bad things to my mother." Dutch stares at the ground and scratches his chin. He thought he recognized the name. This could be complicated for the gang, if he came looking for Ana. No matter what, he wouldn't let the bastard lay a finger on her.

Dutch flips over the empty bucket and takes a seat, leaning on his elbows. "I imagine he's the last person you expected to see last night. It must've been hard I… I…" he pauses, wanting to choose his words wisely for her attentive eyes and ears. "You could've come to me, my dear girl. I would've taken you away from that place in an instant, you know."

He places his hand onto her shoulder, she nuzzles her face into his arm and touches his hand with her own. "Why would I want to give Bronte a reason to mistrust you? I wouldn't put myself before the safety of the gang, Dutch, never."

"You're so insightful it makes me proud, Anastasia." He takes his time to pronounce her name properly. It leaves behind an imaginary sweet taste in his mouth, like the flavour of a ripe cherry.

"Just doing what I think is right. Like most of us, I suppose."

They sit in silence for a few moments. Examining the view before them that starts to look like a painting if you stare for too long. Ana sits up and begins combing her hair with her fingers. Dutch briefly watches her in adoring observation before gently pushing down her hands and taking over the task of detangling of her damp hair. He moves slowly so he doesn't tug too roughly on her hair.

"What a kind gentleman you are, Mr Van der Linde." She shuts her eyes, letting the pair of rough hands carefully maneuver their way through a maze of knots. She had sold her only brush some time ago. In moments like this she missed it dearly.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all my dear. I particularly enjoy taking care of you, if you haven't noticed." They share an unseen smile. It was true, Dutch jumped at the chance to do something generous for her whenever he could. He always saw it as an opportunity to show that he cares.

"If that's the case I should repay you somehow. Name your price, Van der Linde." The two of them chuckle quietly, he runs his fingers through her hair one last time, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

He whispers tenderly, sending a chill down her spine. "Come find me tonight, dear. I'll take you wherever and however you want." She leans her head backwards, resting it between his legs with a smirk she doesn't attempt to conceal. Dutch towers over her with the same look on his face.

"Doesn't sound like much of a payment. You've been doing that from the start, as have I." He runs his thumb along her cheek. The heat isn't the only thing contributing to her rosy cheeks.

"Can't a man just make his lady swoon without being questioned? Every night… I mean, every moment I'm with you that's more than enough for me. You don't owe me nothing." Ana rolls over and kneels before him, placing her hands on his thighs. She begins the caring motion of rubbing his legs tenderly.

"Sounds like you like me too much, Dutch." He leans back with a crooked grin, welcoming her touch.

"Tell me, dove, what is 'too much'?" She wipes her chin on shoulder, her eyes wandering back to the hustle and bustle of camp while she ponders his question. When you like someone too much, does that make it love? Or was it just something that's entirely unknown to her because of her lack of experience with the dynamics of a relationship. She did not know what it meant to love someone, but she thought it might feel something like jumping off a cliff and never hitting the ground. No control, no end and no idea of what comes next. It would take a long time for her to love Dutch or John.

She dismisses the underlying meaning behind such a question with humour. "Just means you're always trying to get me into bed, you dirty old man." Dutch hesitates before joining in on her joking. The other routes that conversation could've taken frightened him as well.

"I assure you I ain't dirty and I ain't old, though I might be getting there these days. I'm just a man so taken by a girl it drives him wild with lust. I'm sure you can understand that both men and women have needs." Ana pushes herself up and stands within his reach. He pulls her by the waist onto his lap and she straddles him. Their bodies mould to each other's as she leans onto his chest. Their foreheads are touching and their lips are parted.

"I know just what you need right now, Dutch."

They kiss, not close-mouthed, but open, eager, wet and hungry. Dutch's taste was intoxicating, she thoughtlessly moaned, he squeezes her hips at the vulnerable and feminine sound. Every kiss felt like salvation and torment all at once, loving what they were getting but wanting more. Sex is all wanting more and more until you've had enough, she figured. Ana's hips have a mind of their own as every primal urge takes over, Dutch starts to forcefully guide her while groaning softly.

Dutch mumbles, annoyed that he has to say this in the first place. "We… shouldn't, someone could see." With his warning, Ana comes to a stop. He was right after all. Even though there was no one nearby, chances are someone would come by before they were finished. Their billowing breaths filled the silence of unfulfillment. She whimpers quietly in frustration.

"I know, I know… You'd better come to bed early tonight. This ain't nearly done Dutch van der Linde." She plants one last sweet kiss on his lips and before leaving with swaying hips. Suddenly, she wishes she still had the bucket of water to kick the feeling of desire that left her knees trembling.

 **Early that next morning…**

I was right to assume that Dutch and I were going to spend a good amount of time making love. We were up for hours last night, although we were careful not to disturb anyone's rest. The vigorous act had left me sore and with sleepy eyes, I bring my hand up to my mouth and yawn deeply. I left Dutch's morning curls and steady breathing to see Arthur, who told me to meet him on the broken dock that hovers above a swamp full of alligators and alligator shit. Probably why it smells so bad. Arthur stands as still as a rock unless it's to lift his cigarette to his lips. He's wearing an unbuttoned crisp white shirt. I can't help but wonder who he's trying to impress in such a fine shirt. Was that pomade in his hair?

"Well I sure do hope you didn't get all dressed up for my sake, Morgan. Unfortunately, I've got more men in my life than I can handle." He rolls his eyes at me and tosses his cigarette into the water, blowing out his last puff of smoke while he does so.

"You going blind my friend? Or maybe Marston lowered your standards." Sarcasm is as present as ever in his squinted eyes and subtle smirk. I playfully shove him in the shoulder.

I shrug teasingly and light up my own cigarette. "Some women like a man with scars. You should try it out sometime. I could give you one, if you'd like."

"You think you're real funny, don't you? Ain't anyone ever teach you some manners young lady?" He borrows my cigarette without asking and takes a quick inhale. We had a habit of unspoken sharing.

I make a face that implies he's a fool for asking such a question. "I should be asking you the same thing, Arthur."

He overexaggerates the rapid shaking of his head while I let out an effortless giggle. "I ain't been nothing but nice to yo-" he's interrupted by a harsh cough, one that doesn't sound like any smoker's cough I've heard. I furrow my brows uneasily.

"You alright, Arthur? That sounds like shit. No offence."

He wipes some flem off his lip with his wrist before responding. "It's fine, just a sore throat. I'll live."

I don't buy his masculine tendency to downplay illness, I shake my head with disappointment. It's nothing but stupid to pretend you're fine if you feel differently. "Don't be a tough guy. If something is wrong, you best get it checked out before it's too late. I'm serious, Arthur. Find a doctor. You don't wanna end up dying cause you were too stubborn to look after yourself." He seems to take my advice seriously despite his reluctant nod.

"Okay, I get it. I'll see about getting it checked soon, I promise. But right now," he stops to look me straight in the eye, "we need to figure out how we're gonna handle you know who." I lean on my right leg and cross my arms, anxious to hear what he has to say. I let him lead the conversation. "Been thinking, and I don't see any other way but killing the bastard. He'll never stay away if we threaten him and the law needs him, so we can't set up a trap."

I wet my chapped lips and nervously bite them. "We can't just blow the man's head off. It's too obvious."

Arthur looks back at camp for any sign of awakened life before answering me. "Then what do you suggest we do? Suffocate him with a pillow?!" He retrains himself from yelling even though his voice still sounds harsh. He's clearly just as stressed as I am.

It doesn't take me long to reveal the idea I came up with while getting ready this morning. "Ever hear of a plant called the rosary pea? Swallow one seed and it'll kill any man. I saw some growing outside of camp. All we gotta do is get some and make sure he eats it. It's not like anyone wold trace it back to us. Everyone will just assume Micah was being plain stupid and ate it by accident."

I can almost see Arthur envisioning my plan as he slowly starts to nod. It's safer than just using a gun, as long as the seeds don't get into the wrong hands. He speaks with a hint of excitement in his voice. "That may actually work. We can slip it into his drink or food and leave some of the seeds in his tent. We'll avoid suspicion that way for sure…" he looks back at the forest, "can you get 'em? I'm no expert on plants, I'd probably end up feeding him some blueberries." I try not to laugh considering we're essentially planning on assassinating Micah. I'm positive that he deserves to die, though. He went out of his way to join the gang, befriend Dutch, and then he raised hell to increase everyone's bounties. If he isn't stopped, he'll be the downfall of this family. My mother once said sometimes a little evil can do a lot of good. If Micah's life is the price I have to pay to save Dutch and the others, I will do so without any reservations or even a pinch of guilt.

"I'll get the seeds now. After that we'll just have to get everyone drinking and wait for an opening. Sound simple enough, right?" I spin on my heel and start heading towards the forest until Arthur stops me by the shoulder. He places the bow he had on his back moments ago into my hand. "Take this, bring back a rabbit or something. It'll be less noticeable that way." Good thinking. I keep a firm grasp on the light wooden weapon as I continue my quick venture into the woods. Rays of light sneak its way through openings in the trees and birds are chirping, it reminds me of those story books Jack reads. It's much too pretty of a day to be collecting poison. It's not like I have much choice in the matter anyhow. I haven't spent more than five minutes walking when I hear a branch crack. There sits a rabbit nearby with wide black eyes. I aim my bow at its neck and pull back, shutting my eyes on release. It lets out a dreadful whimper and I open my eyes. There's something about rabbits that makes me feel sort of bad about killing them. Not sure why, I can kill men much more easily in all honestly. I throw the corpse over my shoulder and scan bushes for red seeds. There's not much besides blackberries and blueberries for a while. I walk further into the forest until I come across what I've been looking for. Rosary peas. The bright red colour is deceiving, it almost looks edible if you don't have any knowledge about plants. This plant has a reputation for being mistaken as cranberries, meaning it's the perfect thing to poison Micah with. I take a small cloth from my pocket and pick five of them, taking a long look at them to make sure it's what I think it is.

"Hey Fetcher! Didn't know you was out here hunting. I almost shot you!" Never has the sound of John's raspy voice ever startled me so much. I harshly shut my eyes before hiding the seeds behind my back and turning to face him. He walks right up to me, looking happy to see me.

"Anastasia with nothing to say? I must've scared you real good." He tosses his gun without a care to the ground and pushes back a loose strand of my hair. I see that same small smile that latches onto my heart and makes me happier than words can describe.

"I-I, um, well I was just hunting. And I thought I saw…. bigfoot. Yeah, I thought I saw bigfoot, so I just came here to see if I could find his footprints. Thought he might be fun to track down." I laugh nervously and avoid his eyes. I couldn't have come up with a worse lie even if I tried. I don't know why I couldn't think on my feet. I guess lying to John is something I never thought I'd have to do.

He chuckles mischievously and holds onto my chin gently, leaning in to closely examine my face. "Bigfoot, huh? So you're out here tracking down rabbits and a myth. Either you bonked that heads of yours or Saint Denis high society changed you overnight. Tell me, which one is it?"

I can feel my hands sweating around the cloth, I do my best to look into his eyes now. "Can't a girl just have some harmless fun, Marston? I'm heading back to camp soon, I'll see you there." I wait for him to leave but instead he just looks even more amused than he did before. He leans in for a kiss and I impulsively step back. Concern is written all over his face now, he's done playing games.

"Did I do something wrong, Ana? Or are you still all worked up about seeing your father? It's fine, you can tell me."

He rests his warm hand onto my upper arm and searches my face for an answer. I breath in sharply and respond with fabricated sadness in my voice. "I told you how hard that was for me… I can't just make that go away in one night. Please just give me some space, John. You don't gotta worry about me, I swear."

It breaks my heart to see him look hurt but telling him the truth could put him in serious danger. I could never willingly put his life at risk. He presses his lips into a line and nods heavily. "This ain't about Dutch, is it?" I spot a hint of anger in those brown eyes of his as he asks me a question that I never expected to hear from him. John has never been the jealous type so far.

"I just told you what it's about. Dutch hasn't got anything to do with this, I swear." He nods unsurely. I wish there was a way to reassure him but now isn't the time. Much to my relief, he begins walking away. I watch him with focus until after a few steps he turns around with narrowed eyes and a frown. He takes a step back towards me and glances at where my hands are hidden. My throat feels like it's constricting and my heart is racing. I don't dare utter a word because I know he will see straight through me.

"Just one thing. Before I go, why don't you show me what you're hiding?" He places his hand on his belt and watches me like a hawk. I can't make one movement without him seeing. There's no way I'm getting out of this, so I admit a part of the truth.

"I can't show you. Please, John, trust me. It's for your own good." I can see right away that he didn't like one word of my reply. He scoffs, looking unimpressed by the lies I told him beforehand.

"Do I look like I need you to protect me? I ain't that blind, Ana. I could tell you was hiding something the moment I saw you. I know you better than you realize. I was just hoping you'd show me because you wanted to, not because I'm forcing you to. But clearly that's not gonna happen. So show me or I'll rip the damn thing out of your hands." John's scowl makes me feel like a child caught misbehaving. I know I was wrong to shield him from my plans, he has a right to know about Micah. I bow my head down and hold out the seeds in front of him. He takes them from my hand and gawks at them with wide eyes.

"Ana. I know you can't be that stupid. These… these will kill you in one bite. Why the hell are you picking these?" John looks frightened by the seemingly harmless seeds. I can't blame him, most people who live in the wilderness are wary of them.

I explain calmly to ease his panic. "It's not what it looks like. John, Micah is ratting to the law. He's been adding onto our bounties therefore he could walk away with thousands. I was suspicious after the O'Driscolls took Arthur and me, so I looked through his things. In his journal there's a page where he added up how much he would make. I showed it to Arthur and we agreed that showing it to Dutch would be a mistake… Micah would make up some excuse and he would buy it. We knew the only way was to get rid of him," I look down at the seeds then back to him, "it was the best method I thought of where we wouldn't be caught. Please believe me. Ask Arthur, he'll confirm everything."

He wraps up the seeds and hands them back to me, there's a flame in his eyes. A sort of rage that is rare even within a man with very little patience. "I don't need any further convincing. I knew the bastard was up to something. This just proves that I was right. Go on with your plan, if you need help, I'll be there." I slid the cloth into my satchel. There's still tension between us as he silently watches me. I'm about to apologize when he speaks up.

"Why didn't you come to me in the first place? You know that I would do anything for you. Ana for fuck's sake I would die for you if I had to. Don't you get that?!" His confession admittedly takes me by surprise, even though it's an irrational thing to say, it still makes my heart flutter.

"Don't be an idiot. I can't be that much of a priority for you, John. You've got a son to watch out for. Ten years from now I'll just be some girl you had a bit fun with back in the good old days. Don't overthink it, I'm begging you. Your family is what matters. Not me, or anyone else." I wish I hadn't been so harsh in my response, but I had to set the record straight. I run my fingers through my hair and pull in distress.

John exhales through his nose and shakes his head in defeat. "I know. And I will raise that boy right, I swear. But I know how I feel, alright? This ain't just some fling between two friends," he cups my face and searches the depths of my soul, "I… I might just love you. That's just the way it is. And I can't be sorry for that."

A/N: I'm so happy to finally post this chapter! It took a lot of hard work and some research lol. It was sort of fun reading about poisonous plants. It seems like people are preferring John so far which is interesting… I'm trying really hard to show a different side of his personality without straying too far from his character in RDR so feel free to let me know how I'm doing. All these kind reviews are so uplifting, so thank you! Please tell me how you feel after reading this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	17. Chapter 17

Drops of nature's tears fall from a velvet sky, the grass and leaves are a glistening shade of green. The grey sky turns into a deep shade of charcoal and thunder rumbles so loudly it shakes the earth to its core. I'm soaked within seconds, my light blue blouse sticks to my skin and my jeans feel heavier. John is burning his eyes into mine. The meaning behind those soft brown eyes has changed over the period of a few months. First, they intrigued me, made me curious about what lay behind the surface of John Marston. Then, they became the eyes of a friend, someone I could trust, who always had my back no matter what crazy shit we got into. Eventually, they were the eyes of a lover. The subtle smiles, kisses goodnight, inside jokes, and that one look we shared when we both had a craving for one another's touch, looking at him now reminded me of all those small moments. The only time I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes was when he was disappointed in me or when I lied to his face. Now, these were the eyes of a man that loves me.

John Marston is in love with me and I cannot even begin to comprehend why he feels this way.

We both know that this isn't a conversation that's going to end just because of some awful storm. He guides me by my wrist to underneath a tree that shields us from the downpour. The shower violently beats down onto the leaves, it sounds like a hundred drums being played at once.

John raises his voice above all weather-related distractions. "Say something before I start feeling like the biggest idiot who's ever lived. Please."

His wet hair almost looks black as it clings to his forehead and cheeks. Those bicep muscles of his are more noticeable in that white button-down and beige leather vest. It's a look that suits him. Sometimes I notice how good he looks at the worst possible times. Probably because I'm avoiding asking myself whether or not I love John. I know that I want to love him, which sounds strange, but it's the only answer I have.

I've been staring at dry dirt turning into thick mud for longer than I planned. When I finally look up at him, his calm demeanour is not what I expected. Despite his plea for an answer, he's giving me the chance to give this the thought it deserves. He leans his shoulder onto the trunk of the old tree that provides us shelter and clasps his hands together. I cross my arms and turn my shoulder away from him.

"It ain't that simple. Love is anything but simple, John. I want to… love you I mean. But like I said there's Jack and Abigail to think about. And even I can't pretend Dutch doesn't exist right now, even though we agreed to keep it all separate," I twist my neck so I can see him, "love is the exact opposite of separate. It's giving one thing, one person your all. I know that's not what you want, at least not right now."

John pushes himself to stand up straight and approaches me while speaking with his hands and a tense expression. "It doesn't have to be that way. Why can't love just be about what we've got today? I'm not saying you and me are forever, I'm just saying I'm not gonna pretend to feel one thing when I know I'm feeling differently!" He releases a loud, throaty grunt in frustration from, I assume, his inability to describe exactly what he's thinking, even though I understand precisely what he means.

I point my finger harshly at him as I snap back. "You think I don't want that?! For everything to be perfect while it lasts?! It sure sounds nice to you, don't it? And maybe it would be for a long time. But, when the time comes for you and your family to move on, I'll be the one who's left behind. I'll be the one left with a fucking broken heart while you go on to live a better and happier life. And good for you, John, I'll be glad for you, but don't expect me to willingly fall for you when there's nothing but hurt waiting on the horizon. I won't sign up for that shit and neither should you!"

Without a thought, I shove John in the chest because I can't stand being so close to him right now. He stumbles back but continues talking without much of a delay.

"You'll be left alone, huh? You say that like you won't go running to Dutch the moment I ain't around. I'm not that much of a fool, I know that's what you already do. What's stopping him from having you all to himself then, Ana? You act so pure all the time but you're no better than me or him. You're just like any other outlaw. You sleep around, rob, drink, and kill just as much as the rest of us."

Every word stung so badly. It fuelled a fire boiling inside of me. I have no intention of saying anything to him, it'll only escalate the rage I'm so desperately containing. My chin points to the ground. I watch how my chests rises and falls.

John stupidly speaks thinking he can steal the last word. "Arthur once said to me to not be two people at once. That's what I'm trying to do. You should try it sometime."

I scoff out of ridicule at his insulting suggestion. He's so full of himself, does he genuinely believe he's right? I can't even bother to begin trying to grasp what's going through his head, so I blurt out the first insult that comes to mind. "Leave me the fuck alone, Marston."

He backs away, not looking the least bit fazed by my hateful words. "Just give it some thought, Fetcher. That's all I'm saying." He drops the hands he put up in his defence and turns on the heel of his boot. I shake my head in disbelief while I start to think over our heated argument. John obviously holds this convoluted belief that love isn't a huge risk. And I truly wish I saw it the same way he does, I'm just not ready for it yet. I hope he can come to understand that this is just something we disagree on, otherwise this fight won't end easily.

A part of me is haunted by the fear that whether or not I give in to a deeper relationship with Dutch or John, I'll be damaged no matter what. Who knows, my feelings could change with time. For now, I just need some action, there's nothing like robbing to blow off some steam. Luckily, the rain has finally subsided, though it left an earthy scent in the air. It's difficult to describe, but you know it when you smell it. I've been cooped up in camp for too long. The taste of thick, meaty stew and sound of Uncle snoring loud enough to hear it from inside is driving me mad. I remember Dutch mentioning some trolley station robbery, sounded like a decent job. I'd better go ask if I can tag along. It's not like I have anything better to do other than figure out how the hell I'm going to slip Micah this poison, even that can wait for a bit.

…

"First thing's first, Dutch, what is a mango and why would you want to grow them?" I ask curiously after listening to Dutch's shortened pitch on why Tahiti is a paradise. I've never seen him so excited about a plan, his passion is slightly infectious. Initially, I thought it was unrealistic, now living out the rest of our days in the tropics sounded like a dream worth fighting for.

"My dear, I hear it's a fruit so sweet that one bite is never enough. Though the same goes for anything delicious," he stops to lower his voice so a nearby Lenny doesn't hear, "that includes you."

I uncross my arms to inhale my cigarette slowly, enjoying the sensation of my lungs being wrapped in a warm blanket. "Well then let's hope this trolley station is the golden pot at the end of a rainbow." Dutch nods confidently, he seems sure this place has the money Bronte spoke of. I hope it's as good of a lead as he described. I glance at the civilians passing us by. You'd think a bunch of outlaws standing in an alleyway looks suspicious, but we're invisible to them. People are so caught up in their own lives in these parts. Kindness and friendliness are dying traits nowadays.

My moment of observation comes to an end when Dutch slips my cigarette out of my slender fingers and takes one puff, his strong nose wrinkles when the smoke hits his system. "You should give cigars a try sometime. They go down a lot smoother if you ask me." He flicks the unfinished cig onto the ground and squashes it with his toe. I question him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would I lug around five cigars when I can easily fit a pack of twenty cigarettes in my pocket?" He smiles at me. God, that smile. No single feature makes Dutch handsome. It's everything, from the depths of his dark brown eyes to his strong jawline. I can't imagine a single woman laying eyes on Dutch and not being captivated by him. He's objectively irresistible.

"Quality before quantity, my dear." I open my mouth to respond until Dutch lights up at the sight of an approaching Arthur. He instantly reawakens the focus he briefly lost during our talk.

"Come on, keep walking, you're late." In fact, Arthur was only a few minutes late, however, Dutch probably thinks it's been longer since he's anxious to get our robbery underway.

"A couple days in this place and you've turned into some clock watching city boy. What's the urgency?" Arthur throws up his hand as the three of us follow Dutch, who stops us when we reach the end of the brick wall. He extends his head forward to get a better look at the station. I didn't see any guards, if we avoid the law this could be an easy job.

"We need to leave… forever. We've been doing well, making money, but for us all to leave together, we'll need a boat. Now I found a friendly ship captain who's willing to take us to Tahiti. All we gotta do is pay him for passage and land on arrival. No questions asked. We can finally disappear. Be reborn." Dutch speaks along with the grand movement of his hands. I wonder how he can be so persuasive without trying. Arthur, on the other hand, looks irritated by what I see as inspirational. I guess after knowing someone for so long, you start to lose faith in them. It's a downer to think about but that goes for most relationships. People never love and trust forever, it's just human nature.

"Where the hell is Tahiti?" Arthur asks harshly. Dutch is starting to lose his patience therefore I intervene.

"South Pacific. It's supposed to be an untouched paradise, Arthur. Not even you can complain about exotic fruit and warm weather all year round. Come on, it's better than running from state to state away from them Pinkertons." Arthur listens but doesn't show any sign of agreeing. I'm sure he'll come around eventually if we get the money.

"Listen to Ana. I don't know if you've noticed, but we are on the clock. We've got a few days, maybe, before those Pinkertons show up on our doorstep. Now, Bronte says there's money in here, so let's get that money and get out. Come on." By the time Dutch finishes explaining himself, we've reached the entrance of the trolley station. He turns to face us while he pulls up his dark red flannel bandana to conceal his identity, we follow his lead with eager footsteps and guns ready to fire. He kicks open the door and makes his presence known with a flashy greeting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery. Behave as I tell you and none of you will die. Annoy me and you all will," he walks smoothly towards the safe while giving the workers instructions, "now remember, we just want the money. Don't make us kill you. Mr M come on over here and help me get this safe open. Mr S, check that room back there. Miss F, be a doll and rid these fine folks of their valuables, would you?"

"It'll be my pleasure," I smirk underneath the cloth that covers my mouth. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, nothing gets the blood flowing quite like robbing folks who deserve it. I fixate my aim on a man wearing a navy tuxedo. He looks like a member of Saint Denis high society.

"You heard the man. Whether or not you die today is your choice. I suggest you hand over what you've got before I make that choice for you." With trembling hands, he tosses me a money clip and a golden watch. I slide it into my pocket and make a beeline for a woman hiding in the corner with pearls.

"I'm sure your husband will replace whatever we take, ma'am. Now give it here before I blow your head off. Please." She cries out in terror when I threaten her, nevertheless, she manages to submissively offer her pearls and some cash for the taking. I snatch it from her hands. I haven't reached the last older gentleman in the station when Lenny calls out to us, sounding panicked.

"There ain't much here… actually, there's nothing here, I swear!" I look over to him, his hands are empty. How can there be nothing? You'd think a trolley station would at least have a couple thousand.

Dutch responds with a steady voice, though if you listen closely, you can hear the unease building within him. He wasn't prepared for this, none of us were. "Ana, you go with Mr S and get ready for company." I hesitate at the sound of my name being used. He's even more stressed then he's letting on if he's saying something so very reckless. I spot him cursing to himself before I run to cover with Lenny. We crouch by the windows and look out for incoming law.

"There's almost nothing here! Just a few dollars and coins!" Arthur's voice travels like the roar of a lion. Lenny and I exchange a worried look silently. This isn't going to end well. To add to our problems, almost a dozen lawmen come running around the corner.

"Gentlemen, we'd best get moving because there's a shit ton of cops out there. Looks like our dear friend Bronte set us up!" I'm trying my best to stay calm while I warn the boys. Of course Bronte set us up, it was foolish to think otherwise.

"You think?" says Arthur with an attitude. I get that he's mad but now is hardly the time for his commentary. Dutch obviously didn't appreciate it when he lets out a shout, his voice cracking halfway.

"Does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you, Arthur?!" Again with the first names, what is he thinking? There are at least five witnesses who heard him now. I let go of my concern for now and run over to Arthur and Dutch. We desperately look in different directions for some kind of solution to a timely problem.

"Unless you boys wanna die in a trolley station, we need to get our asses moving!" Dutch ignores my comment and looks out the backdoor. I hear the screech of the oncoming trolley. That's it, that's our way out.

Dutch commands us within a few seconds, there's no time to waste dwelling on the safest escape route. "The trolley! Follow me my friends!" Arthur shrugs at me and I jerk my head towards the moving trolley as a way of telling him to get going. We stay close behind Dutch who jumps on easily and shoves the conductor out the other entrance. I had changed into my favourite red dress that I wear for most robbery jobs, I'm now regretting that choice because the wind against the loose fabric is slowing me down. Usually, I'd be ahead of Arthur by now, but he's already managed to get on. The trolley is speeding up more now, there's no way I'm making it to the front entry. My best chance is going in through the back, I prepare my hands to grab on to the first thing I see that I can pull myself up with. That just happens to be a large hand riddled with familiar rings, Dutch lifts me like I'm not much lighter than a feather. He holds me tightly by the shoulder and attempts to steady my unbalanced footing.

"You're safe. Take a breath, then get ready to fight." I nod at him instantly. He lets me go to find cover when Lenny breaks a window to shoot out of. I join Arthur in the back, hanging onto the side while I start shooting anything dressed in blue that moves. Lawmen are everywhere, the sidewalk, alleyways, balconies, and riding our tail on horses. They're easy enough to shoot though, considering they've got almost no cover to hide behind. Cities aren't exactly built for firefights.

"Bronte is gonna pay for this!" Dutch sounds like he wants to kill that snake and I can't blame him. I'd take pleasure in watching him beg for his life. Could Micah be involved in this scheme? I can't imagine him being smart enough to cook this up. It does help him because our bounties will surely rise. I wouldn't be surprised if mine hit the thousand mark now, ain't that lovely. I shoot a cop in the chest when he gets close. Sometimes I wonder if any of these fools had even held a gun before they got this job.

Dutch speaks between frequent gunshots. "Outside the saloon. Damn, we are really moving here… Arthur, get up here and slow this thing down now!" He's right, we're not far from the edge of town now.

"I'll try." Arthur grumbles and leaves me to get rid of the remainder of men still following us. If this thing wasn't going so fast now would be the perfect time to get the hell out. "The thing's broke… hold on!" A pair of sweaty hands that feel like a rock against my torso throw me between the floor of two benches, I cover my head while the weight of someone's warm body protects me from the blow. The trolley goes flying into the air and I have nothing to hold onto. When we land, I'm flung elsewhere and my bad shoulder slams against a solid piece of metal. Pain sears through my arm and my mind submits to the physical torture, I curl up and cry out, I sound like a wounded animal. A stream of dark, thick blood paints the pale skin on my forearm. Dutch is next to me, holding his head and shutting his eyes tightly. He attempts to shuffle towards me but he's in just as much pain as me. I hear the sound of glass shattering and grunts near us. The law will be here soon, we have to get up.

"Dutch… Dutch, you gonna be alright?!" I ask frantically. Lenny is helping me up, I look down at Dutch who is slowly managing to stand.

"Just about. Lenny, get Ana some cover. I… I'll be fine." I'm about to insist that Lenny helps Dutch first instead of me, but I can hear guns firing from outside. Arthur is on his own, I've gotta watch his back. The moment I'm out, I jump behind some broken wagon and reach for the gun I didn't drop during the crash. Even though my arm feels like it's on fire, I start shooting with no end in sight. We were screwed before, but now, we might just be utterly fucked. I can see Dutch recovering from the blow to his head. He'll need to have that looked at when we're not being shot at, of course.

"How many more of them are there?" asks Lenny, sounding nearly done with this shootout. We must've killed at least thirty lawmen now.

"Would you like me to count 'em for you?" That sounded less mean in my head. I just really didn't feel like answering that question.

Arthur interrupts before we start arguing in a particularly dangerous setting. "Just keep shooting till nothing moves!" And we do just that, I take down two more men before Dutch indicates our next move.

"This is our chance to move, let's go!" Lenny and Arthur burst into a sprint, I stay back to cover Dutch in case any cops feel like surprising us. I probably look like a worried mother watching her child take their first steps. Who can blame me? He can hardly walk straight. I reach for his hand and he follows my lead without question. It's good to know Dutch trusts me with his life. I've never been put in a situation where I was the one taking care of him. It's nice, not including the high risk of death.

Arthur looks back to make sure we're keeping up. "You alright, Dutch?"

"I won't lie, I've been better, son." It takes a lot for Dutch to admit he's not doing well. Pride as strong as his is not easily broken.

"Good thing your lady is keeping an eye on you." Arthur smiles at me, thanking me with a nod. At first, I was expecting wit from such a statement, but it seems like he genuinely means what he said.

We all follow Lenny's lead, running rapidly through street after street, pausing every now and then to shoot when the number of lawmen was overwhelming. I don't know how we're getting out of this. Lenny seems confident enough, so I trust that he'll find a way. When I'm almost out of bullets, he leads us onto an unoccupied wagon. I jump in the back with Dutch, staying low so we don't get a bullet in the head.

"You alright boss?" Lenny asks for the third time.

"Took a real bang in the head back there… I'm seeing three of everything." Dutch isn't joking. I don't think he's shot more than one man since the crash. Which is unusual since he never misses a shot in most fights. His eyes lift to the blood that is leaking down my shoulder all the way to my fingers. Admittedly, I don't think I'm much use with my gun right now, I'm starting to feel weak.

"I'll cover you two. Just stay down! These bastards ain't done yet!" says Arthur. Dutch pulls me onto the floor of the wagon and places a firm hand on my back.

"You're bleeding. What happened?" He looks at me, waiting for an answer. I nearly chuckle at his question.

"You were there, weren't you? Or did you forget after getting knocked in the head?" I catch a glimpse of his cheeks lifting underneath his bandana. At least he can laugh, that's a good sign.

"We should've just stayed in bed. That would've made a much more productive day." I lower my head in laughter. We must be insane to be having a conversation like this while being chased down by the law. I suppose there's not much else to do other than keep our heads low.

"I agree… we walked straight into Bronte's trap. I can't blame you and no one else should. We'll get that bastard back." Dutch looks pissed off at the sound of the Italian's name.

"He set us up. Am I missing something here, what did I do to him, Ana?" It's a legitimate question. I don't think this move against us was anything more than a man blinded by his own power.

"Men like Bronte don't like folk like us. He probably saw you as a threat and decided he better get rid of you. It don't make sense, but that's what greed does to someone like him." He nods along with my words, his mind seeming to be in a distant place somehow. Like there was a hatred brewing in his heart right before me. I get the feeling this rivalry won't last long. Bronte will be dead before he has the chance to make another move.

"Anastasia, promise me you'll help me kill Bron-"

The wagon comes to a stop, Lenny's voice intrudes on our intimate conversation. "Looks like we're finally in the clear."

Arthur turns back to address Dutch. "How 'bout next time we try out this thing called discretion?"

"It was a trap, brother. I didn't know. And for that I'm sorry. There ain't a point in arguing about what's done. There's still the bank. We need money, and that's where we'll find it. Hosea agrees." Dutch rubs his temple, appearing too disoriented to have this sort of conversation.

"Lay off, Arthur. We'll talk about this later, Dutch needs his head looked at," I said with narrowed eyes. I only just notice how dirty we all are. And to think I just washed up.

"Alright… enjoy your eleven dollars, everyone. Oh, and don't forget the quarter." He tosses our pay in a demeaning manner.

Dutch snaps back. "Oh, just shut it, would you? Lenny did real good, so did you two. Let's go back to camp." I can't fight the sleep that drags me down on the way back home. Today was not at all what I expected.

…

It's late in the evening when I wake up on a mattress that is lower and stiffer than my own. I take in my surroundings. John's room, they must've put me here while Swanson tends to Dutch. My arm has been cleaned and wrapped. I sit up, my muscles are stiff, I groan gently. John is close by, looking out the window with a cigarette in his mouth. He turns to face me when he hears me wake up.

"Oh, would you look at that, you ain't dead. When you and the boys turned up, I thought you were for a second. You're a heavy sleeper, I guess." He slowly makes his way over to me, then takes a seat on the end of the bed.

"Looks that way, don't it? Check again in the morning, maybe I'll actually be dead then." Our chuckles trail off and we're left in unbearable silence. I speak because I can't stand it any longer.

"I'm… sorry 'bout before. I was mad, confused… don't know what else I was feeling, I just know I'm sorry, that's it."

John smirks and angles his head downwards. "I know you're sorry, so am I. I can have a real bad temper some days. You didn't deserve that. But I… I meant what I said, I guess. Not all of it, just the first thing. Just know that, alright?"

I reach over and place my hand onto his, caressing his rough skin that fits his Western appearance like an old pair of boots. "Sure thing, Marston." My apology didn't feel like enough, so I lean in, our lips meet and synchronize in gentle movement. It was a kiss that wasn't about sex or lust, instead, it was an innocent way of making amends. Showing him that I care with the affection he deserves. We separate and exchange a smile with relief. Neither of us felt like fighting right now.

I begin to collect my things when I notice my satchel is missing. I truly hope no one has gotten into it.

A/N: Finally got this chapter done! I've been sick, so it was a bit tiring for me to write this weekend. Thank you for the support as always, I never expected so many people to be enjoying this story. It's almost at 5,000 views on FanFiction which is mind-blowing to me honestly. Please feel free to review or even send in scenarios you'd like to see happen in the fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	18. Chapter 18

John and Anastasia sit with their shoulders touching on a wooden bench underneath a gazebo not far off from collapsing. The paint was chipping and the wood was rotting, it made for good enough shelter at such a late hour. It all started with one beer. Then one beer turned into four beers and two whiskeys. Alcohol is a trap they willingly fell into that night because it felt like a better use of time compared to sleeping the night away. She was too drunk to think about her lost possessions, making the excuse to herself that she'd find it in the morning after spending a solid ten minutes searching for it earlier in the day. She joked that Uncle probably fell asleep on top of it, which wasn't the most outrageous suggestion. They sat aimlessly, talking naturally and giggling from intoxication. The sound of Ana's laugh was soothing to John, it felt like honey pouring into his ears while heat radiated from his heart.

"Alright, alright enough fooling around, Marston. We're adults, ain't we? Probably means we shouldn't laugh about… wait, what were we laughing about again?" The warmth of her hand seeped through his shirt onto the skin of his shoulder, her touch moulded to a firm curve. She searched her short-term memory with a dazed expression.

"I was telling you the story about that time Bill drank a shit ton of whiskey then made a move on some nun collecting money outside the saloon. I ain't never seen him talk to a lady before and she started screaming about how he was the devil!" They jerk their heads forward in a fit of laughter and end up smacking their foreheads together hard, still laughing through the pain the impact caused. John supports her temple and traces the area he hit with a calloused thumb.

"Ah shit, did I hurt that pretty head of yours?" John asks, trying to wipe the goofy smile off his face while he tends to her.

She carelessly buries her face into his chest. He holds onto the back of her head and digs his fingers into her soft locks of hair, which had grown two inches since they met. "Come on, Marston. I'm a tough girl, you know, I can handle a smack on the head. Hell, you've seen me shot two times now and I survived."

He plants his lips onto the top of her head and speaks with a muffled voice momentarily. "Point taken, Fetcher. Don't think that means the third bullet won't kill you. That's how fools die."

She releases a yawn that makes her whole face stretch, responding with a distant whisper. "Whatever you say, Mar…" Her voice trails off before she finishes. She was falling asleep, he listened to the sound of her soft breathing.

John looks up at the nearby sight of everyone sleeping. He was exhausted too, but his mind was staying alert for her. Subconsciously, neither of them wanted the night to end. It felt normal to drink, talk, laugh and touch like a normal couple might do together. During these moments, he pictured a life where it was just the two of them in some cabin they built deep in the woods. Raising Jack and a new child, they'd live without killing and stealing all the time. It was just a dream to him, nothing more. A reality that was as tangible as a tree living without water nor sunshine. It would die before it had the chance to flourish. John hardly ever confronted the emotion of sadness, guilt was as close as he usually could get to it. But the thought of a life he could never have upset him in a way he couldn't put into words. Living in the moment was his only remedy for this loss.

His thoughts felt like a safe space until he heard the sound of hastened footsteps heading towards his location. He had no choice but to look unless he pretended to be asleep, which hardly ever worked on a reasonable mind. There Dutch stood in silence, appearing displeased at the sight of his lover who wasn't in bed with him yet. Her head had fallen onto John's lap, to say the least, it wasn't the best position for Dutch to find them in.

John spoke quietly, not wanting to wake her. "Sorry, did we wake you?" He remained unbothered by the daggers Dutch was staring into him, he saw no point in jealousy. It had been this way between the three of them for too long to let such a childish emotion overpower his calmness. Though the taller man with ebony hair felt differently. He had agreed to this with the condition that it stays private and separate. This was an embarrassment on his behalf.

"No, you didn't, John," he spoke with the voice he used whenever he was about to lose his temper. "I came to collect Anastasia. It's late. Too late, clearly, if she's falling asleep on you. Now if you don't mind, I'll bring her to _our_ bed for a proper night's sleep."

John hid his reaction to the reminder of where she spent almost all of her nights. It still sickened him when he pictured what happens in that bed. He never heard, but he knew. Everyone in the gang used to share women, that's just how their world worked. Something about it felt different with Ana. The only comparison he could think of, although it sounded a bit strange, was having a favourite pistol he had to share. It felt like it was built just for him, fired perfectly, rarely missed a shot and was beautiful to look at. At the same time, whenever he didn't have it by his side, it functioned just as well for another man. He wanted to believe he treated it better than the other owner did, but it was impossible to know. A pistol can't talk, and she won't say a word either if he asked. John knew that if you hold onto a mutually admired weapon for too long, it would suffer the consequences, not him. With that in mind, he shrugged at Dutch and motioned to the sleeping girl. The smug leader willingly obliged and threw the drowsy lass over his shoulder. When they were halfway up the stairs, she asked an innocent, disoriented question. "Where we going…?"

Dutch smiled pleasantly at how sweet she sounded when she was tired. "Hush now, dear girl. I'm taking you back to where you belong."

The next morning…

Ana stands casually with a shiny golden repeater in her hands. She'd been keeping watch near the front of camp with Charles for about an hour now. The previous night was a blur, she figured she must've drunkenly stumbled to her bed at some point. Her hangover was evidence enough that she had far too many drinks. Her pounding head felt like lightning striking through her skull. And she still couldn't find that goddamn satchel, it was an annoyance and a worry. Even if dealing with Micah wasn't necessarily an urgent matter in her eyes, she needs to be prepared. Wanting to get her mind off all the troubles that delve her thoughts deeper into a toxic pit, she turns to Charles with a forced comedic look on her face. "Wanna play a game?" He looks skeptical at her offer before answering.

"Uh… yes? Unless your game involves staring at nothing in silence for another hour." He chuckles, his eyes still fixed on the area in front of them.

Her voice is heavy with sarcasm, "Alright. See if you can find the colour green anywhere." Charles turns to her, slowly but surely. His expression is blank and he sounds monotone.

"Ana. I'm colour-blind." He pauses, causing a moment of uncertainty before a teasing grin grows. She simply smirks in return.

"That ain't no excuse! Looks like the time for my awful joke has passed. We'll just go back to… I dunno, mistaking rabbits for intruders and thinking about what's for dinner," they share a knowing look. "Hey, nothing beats that stew after a long day of standing. Besides that time Pearson messed up the meat." She shivers at the memory of how sick it made her.

Charles lifts his right shoulder indifferently. He hardly shows any extreme emotions, Ana couldn't recall ever seeing him get mad, maybe annoyed at the most. It made him a calming presence to be around. The two of them hadn't spoken all that much in private, they'd only talked in group conversations beforehand. Despite the lack of a serious bond between them, they trusted each other's judgement because of their mutual friends. After some meaningless silence, Charles asks a question he found himself wondering whenever he saw the young woman.

"I don't mean to stick my nose into your life. But, I gotta ask, how can one girl get involved with two men who are so… opposite? I guess." The words came out of him naturally, he'd never been afraid of honesty.

Ana hadn't really thought about that ever. She dug the tip of her boot into the dirt while she formulated a reply. "That ain't easy to answer, Charles. Maybe I see a part of myself in both of them? Dutch, he's strong, stubborn and proud. A natural leader. I ain't much of a leader but I believe in his vision more than anything. I fight for freedom, just like he's always done. And John? He's a good man, even though he don't know it. He's lost in a way, I think. So am I. We're both just trying to find our place in this world. It brought us together." Once she said it aloud, her feelings towards them made more sense than they ever had before. All along, Ana had been becoming two people at once. A fighter and a pathfinder. John and Dutch would define the woman she will become. Though something told her John was right about how trying to be two people at once never works. She wasn't even close to being prepared for that choice, her heart felt hollow at the mere thought of it.

"If you ask me, I think they're lucky to have you. There's a good woman inside you, waiting to break free. Just remember you could do it on your own. Women like you can make it without a man." Charles spoke sincerely, his stare refocusing on the treeline.

The advice he offered came as a surprise, she intended to take it seriously. "Thank you, my friend," she says softly, ending their conversation. His opinion was flattering and empowering to hear.

After ten minutes of watching for potential threats, an incoming horse finally catches her attention. Charles left since he'd been on lookout since before she woke up. Her grip tightens around her gun and she squints at the incoming mount.

She raises her voice and shouts steadily. "Hey! Who's there?!" No response. It's still galloping without any sign of slowing down. That's when the sight of Kieran's lifeless body and decapitated head burns into her eyes. She blinks harshly, wanting to believe she's seeing things at first. When her reality is confirmed, she has no time to waste, someone sent that boy in as their grand entry for an attack.

While sprinting closer to camp to find cover, she yells at the top of her lungs, grabbing everyone's attention. "Everybody get ready now! The fucking O'Driscolls are coming!" The sound of Mary-Beth's piercing scream hurts her ears. Dutch calls down from the balcony.

"Take cover, they're coming alright!" Ana ignores the bullets whizzing past her, one of them nearly got her in the head. There's too much distance between her and where everyone is hiding, she instead literally throws herself behind the nearest tree. Dirt stains her denim pants and white blouse. She takes a knee and pokes her head out of cover. The O'Driscolls gunfire is favouring her since she's in the middle of the action. She's able to fight back with her gun, making every calculated shot count. That's when she notes how different some of the intruders looked; they definitely couldn't all be Colm's boys. Some of them looked like they belonged to Johnson's Posse. The gang Kenneth Fetcher was the head of. It didn't make any sense to her. After Bronte's party, it was clear he wasn't interested in reconnecting with the child he left all those years ago. Why would he attack her new family? Unless Colm coincidently offered Kenneth money to help take down the great Dutch van der Linde. She hated how the man who was never there for her or her mother kept on making an appearance in her new life. Maybe killing him was the right thing to do.

A tiny voice speaks amongst the chaos, though everyone hears it clearly. "Pa! Pa!" Little Jack didn't know any better. He only wanted to reach his dad before the bad guys did. Abigail pleads desperately for him to come back. Thankfully, John pulls him into cover just in time. Ana hasn't stopped shooting, turning back would be a fatal misstep.

Dutch's yell was like a booming bark that acted as a guide for helpless souls avoiding death as best as they could. "Women and children in the house! Rest of you, hold your ground!" Ana assumes his first order didn't apply to her, they needed her help down here anyways. As she often did, she was underestimating how much damage she alone could do to the oncoming attackers. They were getting closer by the second.

"Ana! Get back here, we're getting overwhelmed!" John exclaims, becoming increasingly worried about the girl in danger. It was his voice that finally caused her to look back. When a nearby enemy saw that she wasn't paying attention, he caught her off guard with a smack in the head. He crawled on top of her, holding a freshly sharpened knife to her neck. No one had noticed she hadn't made it back to the house. Not even John, Dutch or Arthur.

…

I can't say I enjoy the feeling of something so sharp being held against my neck. I've never been so close to the possibility of instant death, I think. It's more frightening than I'd anticipated. My arms weren't that strong, I wouldn't be able to resist forever. The man above me had hazel eyes and was missing a front tooth. I'd rather kill myself than have his face be the last I see. He's too tanned to be an O'Driscoll. Could a name drop work?

"Before you kill me, where's that leader of yours? Fetcher something, right?" His grip on the knife loosens, his mouth hanging open. The attempt he made to hide his surprise at my knowledge was laughable.

"Y-you ain't supposed to know that name." What an unbearable hick accent he has.

"Yeah, well, I just happen to know him. We go way back, trust me. He come along for this raid? I don't mean no harm, just wanna say hello… I'll behave." This feminine trickery was something I missed. It's nice to dust off some old moves. He isn't fully convinced yet. Looks like I'll have to get friendly to persuade him. "What's your name, sir?"

"Uh, Austin… Austin Oakley." That doesn't sound like a fake name. He must be too stupid to lie, or he's just smart enough to know that I would see through him if he lied. It's a bit odd to make small talk when someone has a knife to your neck, that's why it always distracts a man so effortlessly.

I replicate the expression of a rich woman smiling at a poor child. "Mr Oakley, I can tell you're a good man. You won't kill me, I'm valuable, I promise. Now, let's be civil and talk this out without the use of knives or guns, what do you say?"

"I don't kno-" somebody else from behind interrupts, "What have you got there? One of their whores?" That voice. It sounds like Kenneth. His identity is confirmed when he towers above me. He smells like tobacco. He takes a long, hard look at my face, not from confusion, but recognition. "Oh, you. Heard more 'bout you from Colm, he said you was a wild girl," he squints his eyes, "hell, you sure look like me. What was your momma's name again?"

I roll my eyes at such an insultingly ignorant question. "Her name was Judith, Jude for short. I'm sure she'd be overwhelmed with joy to hear that her husband of two years remembers her so well. Although, it must be a challenge to remember all the women you've left."

He dismisses his follower named Austin with the nod of his head, he leaves us and joins the fight. The gunfire was loud and constant, I could hear my name being called from afar. Kenneth waited for me to stand up before he spoke.

"That mother of yours was a spitfire, no sane man would've stayed with her. She was as tough as a bull and pretty as a daisy. You're just like her. What happened to that woman anyway? She dead?"

He doesn't seem to care about her one bit, though I still feel the urge to answer for some reason. "I found her hanging from a tree when I was 15." I hadn't thought about my mother's suicide in some years. I'd accepted that she didn't want to live in this world anymore. She spent most of her life preparing me for the day she was gone.

I feel sick when Kenneth snorts in response. "So that shrew finally did it, huh? She took her own damn life! She always used to say she was gonna kill herself if I left. Surprised it took 15 years…"

Hate spread throughout my entire system. It shut down all other emotions and logic I possessed. I hate the man before me, the father I never knew, the husband that left, the lowlife he is today. How I'd love to see him bleed by my own hand. There was a stillness between us, the anticipation of violence building steadily.

I pull out my pistol in a swift motion. "All these years I wondered why you didn't want me. But now, I know that I don't want you in my life, Kenneth." Some of his men begin to gather around us, he waves them off without looking away from me.

"Put the gun down. If you're really my child, you'll at least fight fair." He begins to toss his weapons onto the ground. The rest of his men and Colm's boys were retreating now, meaning the others will come looking for me soon. Truthfully, killing him with my bare hands would be satisfying, so I drop the only gun I have left. An evil smirk occupies his face. It takes a sick mind to take pleasure in fist fighting your own daughter. Who cares, I just want him gone for good.

He makes the first move in a matter of seconds, running at me with the intention of tackling me. I dodge his attack by jumping to the side, he lets out a grunt and comes at me once more, he misses again. He's slow and strong. I'm fast, which gives me an advantage if I can avoid his grasp. When he gets close enough, I throw a hard punch at his jaw. He hardly reacts, making a quick recovery and grabbing the collar of my shirt. He lifts me up and tosses me onto the dusty land as if I'm a sack of flour. My back makes an unpleasant cracking noise when I hit the ground, it hurts like a bitch, but I get up again, aiming for his stomach with my fist. He stumbles back, holding onto his torso and wincing. I won't let him regain his strength this time, I bash him onto the ground with my shoulder. When he falls, it makes a loud thump. I climb on top of him, sending repeated blows onto his face until my knuckles are red and numb. He's not a person to me as I beat him close to death. Just something I want to obliterate to pieces, so there's nothing left to bury. I wasn't aware anyone was watching until Dutch grasps my shoulder from behind and mutters a blunt phrase.

"Ana, I think that's enough."

…

"She had her reasons to be mad at the feller. I say we patch the man up and send him back to his posse. Then just forget this ever happened," says John, pitching his idea for what to do with Ana's father, whose face was bloody and bruised after their violent encounter. They'd tied him up to a tree in the outskirts of camp while Dutch, Hosea, John and Arthur held an informally private meeting on the balcony. Ana was in the other room, examining the damage done to her hands. Everyone was exhausted after the firefight and the cleanup process that followed.

"Are you truly that blind, John? Soon as they see him, they'll come looking for her. If he's dead, as far as they know he just died during the fight. Revenge just gives them another reason to show up here for a second time." Dutch crosses his arms as he responds, sending John a look of disapproval.

Hosea intervenes before it gets heated between the two men. "I reckon letting him go would be a mistake. Unless we're willing to skip town right after. Alas, we don't have the money for that, so… Dutch's way is the safest I'm afraid."

Arthur rolls his eyes; his mind is blown at how his friends have failed to ask the young woman what she wants to be done with her very own father. "How 'bout we ask Ana what she thinks? Considering she was the one who nearly killed him back there. And she's become a voice of reason in this gang, just saying."

They all silently agree and Arthur leaves to collect her. He lingers at the doorway before knocking gently and opening the creaking door. She looks back at him from where she sits in the corner of John's room. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek and her hair was falling out of a loose bun.

"Hey. Come on and join us for a sec, if you don't mind."

To his surprise, she responds like her normal self. As if she hadn't nearly killed her father a few hours ago. "Don't you sound so very serious. Does this mean I'm part of the inner circle now?"

Arthur doesn't respond, instead patting her on the back as they return to the others who are eager to agree on a solution. Everyone is silent while Dutch addresses her slowly and soothingly like he didn't want to disturb a still body of water on a hot summer night.

"Anastasia, we been talking about Mr Fetcher and… we think it's best to finish what you started. That way he won't come back with an angry mob. Of course, we want to hear your thoughts before we come to a decision." He gestures towards her gracefully, inviting her to speak. She looked between each of them, contemplating each outcome of their actions.

She asserted her position with a hand on her hip. "Just kill the bastard. He ain't the forgiving type, I gather. He's brutal, and he'll bring flames and fury upon us to the likes we've never seen before. So, make it easier on us and just shoot him. The world will be better off without him, I'm sure of it."

Everyone besides John shared a confident nod. He huffed and was quick to leave. Arthur and Hosea said their goodbyes and left to catch some shuteye. Ana leaned against the railing as Dutch wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I'll have one of the boys take care of him when it's light outside," he paused to wipe the dirt off her face with his thumb, "You gonna be alright? It's been one hell of a day."

She leans her head onto his shoulder and exhales. "I'm just glad it's over, Dutch. He doesn't mean anything to me. Now I won't wonder what my life would've been like if he was around."

Dutch smiles softly. "I'm glad you saw it the same as I did. You're an insightful woman. I'm glad to have you by my side." They share a loving kiss in the moonlight, which John witnesses through the window. He once refused to let jealousy ignite anger, but in that moment, betrayal and rage was all he felt.

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for the kind words, it's fascinating to see why readers prefer John or Dutch. Personally, I still don't have a favourite. Also, just wanted to remind you guys there isn't as strong of a relationship between John and Abigail in this fic. They're basically not a family like they were in the main plot of RDR2 at this point. I have a pretty big twist planned for the next chapter… something I came up with myself. Anyways, please feel free to comment and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	19. Chapter 19

The bang of a gunshot echoes throughout camp at daybreak. Crows squawk and take flight outside a nearby window. It's a grim morning, there's a breeze in the air. I want to complain about the noise until I remember the reason behind a gun being used at five in the morning. The last living member of my family, besides myself, has just been executed and I feel no remorse. Whoever did the deed will likely dump him in the swamp, the gators will make a fine meal out of him. I know that this was necessary, he would've killed us all if he was released. John doesn't know him as I do, that or he's growing softer as an attentive father to Jack. Even if John is becoming more of an empathetic soul, I don't mind. We all change with age, and if you like someone enough, you adapt to their new traits.

I can hear Dutch moving around next to me, the loud noise must've woken him up as well. He exhales deeply and rubs his sleepy eyes. "I'm guessing you heard that. I thought I told Bill to take him far out…" He pinches the bridge of his nose. I don't think either of us slept that well.

I shift my body onto my left side so I'm facing him, supporting my head with my forearm. "It's fine. I'm glad it's done, I'll rest easier knowing I won't run into him ever again."

Dutch has bags under his eyes, his hair is still slicked back with yesterday's pomade. He looks raw with exhaustion, being a leader must take so much out of a person. Sometimes I wonder if anyone truly comprehends what this man goes through while worrying, protecting and loving twenty members of his family. He detects the sympathy in my expression. "Oh wipe that worried look off your face, would you? I should be the one giving you that look right now," he says with a hoarse morning voice.

I sit up and bring my knees to my chest. "Enough talk about yesterday. We got bigger things to think about. Like the Pinkertons, Tahiti, the bank job, and…" I wish I could warn Dutch about Micah's betrayal. It kills me to know that he wouldn't buy a word of my warning, he honestly trusts that man with his life for some strange reason.

Dutch presses a finger onto my lips to silence me, I look at him questioningly. "You ain't gotta remind me of that now. Can't we just spend time together?" He's right, both of us need to remember how to enjoy life even when we're at a low point. Dutch gets up and smooths back his hair, offering me his black coat which he hadn't bothered to fold last night. All I have on is a thin nightgown, so I put it on, it's big and comfortable. I follow him onto the balcony and watch while he lights up a cigar.

My hair was in a wild, curly state at the moment. He didn't seem to mind, even when I'm covered in dirt, he doesn't look at me differently. It's strange to be equally admired at my best and my worst. Could that be a part of what love is? It sure felt like it.

"How'd we get here Dutch van der Linde?" I ask, with no bias behind my tone.

He blows a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Here? If I recall correctly, we walked." He finishes off his response with a sly wink, I roll my eyes with a smile.

"You know what I mean. Feels like ages ago since we met in Valentine. It's been what, four months? Things moved pretty quickly with us, guess that's how it works when two strong-headed fools take a liking to each other." I raise an eyebrow at his expressionless face. Sometimes it seems like Dutch has a very limited range of public personas. Angry, humorous, inspirational and charming. It was rare to witness any other emotion from him, which makes it difficult to identify when he deviates from my expectations.

"I don't see a point in dissecting something that ain't there, Anastasia. You and I are good friends who like getting closer than most folks. Don't overthink it." His manner of speaking is cold and unfamiliar. Where did this come from? Dutch led me to believe we had something special growing between us. Had he tricked me with his charm all along? Was I just like Molly, a woman he reeled in with honeyed words and attention until something newer came along? I feel sick to my stomach because Dutch just managed to make me feel so small and insignificant. I've been staring at him for a while and I can't read his precise thoughts, as much as I'd like to. Although, there's a sorrow buried deep within his dark eyes. No, he's not using me, he's building a wall to protect himself from potential heartbreak.

"Take that back Dutch van der Linde. I know you don't mean it, and if you do that makes you a cruel bastard." He presses his lips together tightly and begins walking away from me. I follow him in an instant, blocking his path. I press a hand against his chest.

"What do you want from me, Miss Fetcher? You can't expect any noble man to love a woman when she don't belong to him. I once told you the day would come when I won't want no one but you. I ain't gonna let that happen if you don't feel the same." He pushes down my hand, reluctantly rejecting me. I won't give up that easily. His chest presses against mine, I resist the mild force he uses against me and grasp his strong biceps. It was captivating and hurtful to witness a man being torn between instinct and reality.

"I don't belong to anyone. If you want a woman who will give herself to you without question, look elsewhere. Before you do, remember that I'm right here and I can honestly say that I have faith in you. I believe in you because I want to, not because I think you'll like me more for it. I know my own worth, Dutch, and if you don't value me accordingly, let me go."

The sun revealed itself, casting a foggy glow onto humid air that traps your skin in a layer of sweat. Dutch silently submits and leans into me, breathing in the scent of my neck. He pushes the coat he lent me off my shoulders, running the tips of his fingers along my exposed back. I suppress a quiver caused by his delicate, tender touch. The mood is beginning to shift, he starts to explore the most intimate regions of my body. Hopefully there will never be a time when sex can't solve our quarrels before they get out of hand.

…

Dutch spent a meticulous amount of time studying Ana's preferences in bed. He knew every pace and position that brought her to new heights of pleasure each time they made love. For Dutch, witnessing her enjoyment was more than enough to get his blood flowing and heart racing. Their nearly perfected sexual dynamics meant that every session wasn't too long or too short. On this particular morning, their mental and physical tension being released made it difficult for them to keep quiet. She was whimpering into the palm that covered her mouth.

"Quiet Ana, you don't want to wake-" a rapid knock on the door interrupts Dutch's sentence, he groans in annoyance.

He slows down his thrusts though he can't bear to fully stop. "I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. What is it?"

There's a delayed response. Hosea's voice is laced with panic. "Dutch, you better get out here. Something real bad happened. Meet me outside."

Ana and Dutch look at each other, both wondering what could've happened. It sounded pretty serious based on Hosea's tone. They start getting dressed quickly and anxiously. Neither of them bothers with initiating a conversation because there's no time. Ana swiftly follows Dutch down the stairs and through the front door. Reverend Swanson is kneeling over something, he's surrounded by almost every member of the gang. Ana observes the looks of terror and upset plastered amongst familiar faces. Dutch pushes his way through the crowd, he was not prepared for what he saw. Molly O'Shea's body lay lifeless, she's as still as the grass on a windless day. Her once red lips are pale and cracked. Those striking green eyes that judged so often were empty. Dutch is watching her, waiting for some indication of life. There's no wound or obvious sign of injury. He doesn't quite believe what lays before his eyes. No one dares to speak until he asks the only question on anyone's mind.

"What happened?" he asks quietly.

Swanson looks up from the dead girl, shaking his head softly. "Poison. We found this on her."

He lifts up Ana's satchel. Her eyes widen, she chokes on her own breath. Even though she had no love for Molly, this death shouldn't have happened. Arthur and she share a troubled look. Their plan had backfired. Dutch's recognition of the handbag is delayed. It's a white feather attached to it that triggers his memory. He'd given the feather to Ana after bestowing the nickname of dove upon her. He turns to her, awaiting an answer.

She digs her nails into her palm. "I… I was making poison for my arrows. Been looking for my satchel for a while now, s-she must've gotten into it and thought they was berries. It's my fault, Dutch, I'm sorr-"

Karen snaps, feeling sickened by her excuse. "Who leaves poison laying around?! How was she to know any better?!" Mary-Beth pulls her away before she continues.

John speaks next, his eyes on the Irish woman. "Ain't her fault, it just happened. All we can do is give Molly a proper burial."

Arthur nods, guilt eating at his heart. "John's right. It's a shame, she was so young…"

Dutch inhales deeply through his nose, walking off with heavy steps while he dismisses Ana's stare. "I… I need some space. Miss Grimshaw, please make sure she gets a proper burial. Rest of you, get back to work."

The gang does as their leader says, silently dispersing with mournful eyes and slouched shoulders. Micah is the only one who looks unaffected. Ana and Arthur move to a nearby tree, pretending it's just to share a cigarette. Bill and Charles are moving her body already. Ana tries not to stare too long at the dead woman who hated her so much. She wasn't saddened by the gang's loss. If she were dead, Molly would've danced on her grave. There was a more urgent question on her mind: what would they do about Micah now?

Arthur's blue eyes looked to her for guidance. It felt like a punch in the gut when she realizes she has no new solutions. "I ain't got the slightest clue as to what happens next, Morgan."

He doesn't look at all impressed. "Molly's grave ain't even dug yet. How 'bout we save the scheming and conniving for later?"

It pained her to know that he was right. She felt anxious to get a new plan underway, but it was disrespectful to do so right after Molly's death. She needed to have at least some sympathy for the impact this was having on everyone, especially Dutch. "I know, I know… I'm sorry. It's just troubling me, Arthur. Feels like everything I do is coming back to bite me in the ass lately. That ever happen to you?"

He huffs sarcastically, tapping the ash off his cigarette. "Things I've done my whole life are coming back to haunt me these days. There ain't no outrunning bad deeds after a certain point, Ana. You best remember that when you decide what kind of woman you want to be."

She shrugs indifferently. "What's the point? Folk like us don't last long anyhow. Might as well chase freedom with the time we've got."

Arthur lowers his chin. He felt like an old man teaching an ignorant teenager to do better than his generation. "Don't you go acting all stupid now. You know better than that."

"I used to think I knew better, used to be a better person. Used to, Morgan. Now? Well, something tells me I ain't gonna turn out much better than that coldblooded killer who gave me life."

Ana watches Javier carrying an uneven cross with loose, rusty nails to Molly's grave. The wood is thin, it won't last longer than a couple of years. It's likely no one would ever visit her grave once the gang had moved on from Shady Belle. Her family back in Dublin will never know what happened to their precious daughter. They'll just wonder why she stopped sending letters to them.

Molly's funeral didn't last long. Reverend Swanson read some fancy words straight from the bible. No one cried, not even Karen. She was too tough to cry anyhow. Dutch spoke about how she was a good woman. It didn't feel real to Ana. He looked distant, cold and regretful as if saying goodbye to someone he loved in another life. It must be pretty crappy to be laid to rest by people who hated you, disliked you or hardly knew you, but Ana figured she wouldn't and couldn't complain. The cruel joke made her bite the inside of her cheek.

One week later…

Dutch, John, Lenny, Bill and Arthur sat on the dock of some tiny fishing community outside Saint Denis. They were finally going to pay Angelo Bronte one final visit. Dutch was eager to kill him, so the gang could hit the city bank without having to worry too much about the law. They were waiting for Ana to arrive since she agreed to come along.

"I don't see why we need Ana for this. The five of us can handle Bronte's guards easily," said Bill, crossing his arms and dipping his feet into the lake.

Dutch threw a spare ammo belt on the boat. "Of course, son. But she's a real good shot, better than myself at her age. Just like our boy Lenny here, she's learning the ropes. Experience is the best lesson I can offer both of them. That's why she's coming, there ain't no debate."

Bill snickers. "If you said you enjoyed the view it would've been a good enough answer for me, Dutch."

Arthur glares at him. "Shut it, Bill. She's earned our respect. You just lost mine." Dutch nods thankfully at his friend.

Ana approaches the group of waiting men. She wears a dark blue velvet coat with a tightfitting white blouse that hugs her waist. Her new outfit made her look a few years older compared to her other clothes. John sends a subtle smile her way.

"Sorry I'm late boys. Damn horse got stuck in the mud on my way here."

Dutch notices the look on John's face and releases a demeaning scoff. "Uh-huh. Come on, we need to get going. Can't leave Bronte hanging, now can we?" He helps her into the boat.

It was getting dark as their pilot Thomas pushed them off land. He paddled slowly through the swamp, keeping an eye out for gators. Ana counted seven bullets in her pistol. She looked at John who sat beside her in the back. He was wearing his signature black shirt and a worn-out top hat.

"How long you gonna keep wearing that hat for, Marston? Looks like it's seen better days."

He lifted his chin to see where it sits on his head and touched the rim. "Why? It's a good hat, don't you think so?"

Arthur turned around with a mockful spark in his eyes. John darted his gaze between him and Ana. "Fine. I'll stop wearing this old hat when Ana stops acting like she don't know why we stare at her in those tight little blouses." She punches him in the shoulder, causing the boat to rock back and forth. The group chuckles at John's retort, even Dutch couldn't resist the urge to laugh.

A comfortable silence settles. The water is peaceful, it calms Ana's nerves. Sure, she'd robbed and killed plenty, but assassinating was a whole new world to her. It made her feel dirty. She tightens her loose bun to keep her hands busy.

"Hey Bill, you were a sharpshooter in the cavalry, weren't you?" asks Dutch sarcastically. He loved teasing his old buddy as a form of entertainment.

"What?" Bill asks with a dazed expression like Dutch was speaking another language.

"When we get there maybe you could help with the suppression fire…" Dutch looked back at Ana, she shook her head with a goofy but endearing smile.

"I never said I was no sharpshooter." Bill sends an insulted look at his long-time boss.

"Oh, that's right, w-what was it…? The nation's most loyal latrine digger! Wasn't that it?" John and Ana stifle their laughs while maintaining eye contact.

"Yeah, well I fought, and I fought well." Bill fiddles with his gun, annoyed with his pride being poked at.

"So you always tell us…" Dutch rolls his eyes and leans forward.

"Taught me something you could do with learning. Them Indians were savages." The mood changes with his comment. No one is laughing anymore.

"Watch your mouth there boy. Watch it," Dutch raises his disciplinary finger. "Only type of savages in these parts are moonshine, pompous, inbred locals.

Bill raises his hand defensively. "Dutch I saw things out there…"

"I don't doubt you saw things Bill," he pauses and pinches an inch of air between his fingers. "But your tiny little mind was too small to comprehend what you saw. What you saw, was people that lost everything to savagery. The savagery of peasants… failures come from Europe to reap some awful vengeance on God's last creation."

The tension is as thick as the air. Arthur steps in hoping to cool things down. "Interesting way of preparing for a killing…"

In the background, John whispers into Ana's ear. "Stick with me out there, don't know what we'll run into."

She smiles at his consideration, putting a hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze. "I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine?"

"Always." He places his hand onto hers for a moment. His touch lingers, warming her cold fingers. Their attention returns to the other conversation.

"Well leaving love aside," Arthur coughs croakily, "think we got this?"

"Don't you ever leave love aside, Arthur. It's all we got." Dutch looks up at the mansion they've finally arrived at. "Let's go. Lenny and Bill with me on the right. Arthur, John and Ana you take the left side." They exit one by one out of the boat, climbing over a wall then splitting into groups of three. They stay low and move quickly into cover.

Ana has never been in such a magnificent backyard. There was a mahogany brick pathway, freshly cut bushes and marble statues of naked women. It was a bit too much for her taste. Her steps were nearly silent compared to the men following her. They stopped when they caught sight of two guards.

Ana looked at Arthur's gun then his face. "Kill them guards with only two bullets and I'll buy you a beer."

He shrugs at the challenge, headshots were child's play to him after two decades as a gunslinger. He aimed and shot them both in under five seconds. "You just lost 50 cents." Gunfire breaks out from up ahead. They get into cover, firing at the guards who came to investigate.

They regroup with Dutch and the rest of them, forming a line and shooting every man in sight. None of Bronte's men could poke their head out without getting shot, the pressure was too heavy. "We're coming for you, Bronte! Send out every man you've got, we'll kill 'em all!" Dutch shouts, firing both his pistols simultaneously. "You messed with the wrong man!"

When his men start to fall back, they hastily sprint to the backdoor. "Get this door open, Arthur. This ain't done yet," Dutch mumbles, tossing him a shotgun. Arthur shoots the lock and kicks open the door. They're greeted with another dozen armed Italians upon entering. Their aim is terrible. Ana watches the blood gush from a man's throat when she shoots him. There's only a locked door protecting Bronte now.

"Let's spread out, he's hiding somewhere. Lenny, cover that door. You three check upstairs first," Dutch says while scanning the area. Ana grabs a few shiny objects before heading upstairs with Arthur and John. There's a few more of Bronte's men hiding, Arthur kills them easily enough. That shotgun was handy in such close quarters. Ana went straight to Bronte's room. She could see that he was hiding in the bathtub.

"Fellers, Bronte's over here!" He cursed in Italian and threw his pistol at her when it wouldn't fire. Arthur and John rushed to her side.

"Fuck!" he stepped out of the tub. "Okay, I'm sorry my friends. Name your price, every man or woman has price no? Or I'll surrender, whatever you wan-" John knocks him out with a punch before he finishes.

"Come on, you carry him. I ain't touching that scum."

…

After fighting off a few lawmen that turned up, they made it to the boat with barely a scratch. Although Ana was admittedly out of breath. They were halfway back when Dutch slaps Bronte awake.

"Hey big man, we gonna ransom you or what?"

Bronte looks away in disgust. "You're pathetic."

"Oh am I? Cause from where I'm sitting, you're the one who deserves pity, my friend. All your men… all your money… it wasn't no match for a bunch of dirty bumpkins."

Bronte spits his words, clinging onto the power he's already lost. "You are nothing. You do nothing. You stand for nothing. Me? I run a city. You… you will die like nothing when the law catches up with you! I am this country! You are what people are running from!" Ana looks at Dutch expectantly. There's uncontrollable anger building within him. His eyes look black in the dark night. They all thought Bronte was finished ranting until he turns to Ana.

"Ah yes… your father mentioned he ran into you at my party. You're nothing like him, you're much worse. A killer wolf in sheep's clothing, a dirty whore passed around from man to man. I should've let my men have their way with you the night we met. Now you will die as nothing more than some criminal slut."

"Judging me won't save your life, Signor Bronte. There's a special spot in hell for men like you. Say hello to my old man when you get there." At first, she wanted him dead, nothing more. Now, she wanted to watch him suffer. Dutch's face hardens even more.

Dutch spoke calmly, inching closer to Bronte. "I possess things you will never understand."

"You don't even possess your own men. A thousand dollars to whoever kills him!" The Italian crime lord was starting to panic when no one said anything. There was no one left to save him.

"What are you gonna say now, Bronte? You're done."

Bronte began slowly backing away even though there was nowhere to go. "They're bigger fools than you. The law will find you… already the dogs are on their way."

Dutch grabbed him by the back of his neck, forcing his head above the water. "Oh, you are so right. They are so good at smelling filth, so filth has gotta be disposed of!" He dunked his head underwater, holding him down while he squirmed. "Your friends, the Pinkertons, are they gonna come save you now? Call them, you call them now!" Dutch was struggling to keep Bronte's head down long enough for him to drown. Ana shifted herself beside him, exerting more force onto his head. Dutch was grunting while he used all his strength. When Bronte stops resisting, Dutch dumps his body into the water, offering a meal to a nearby alligator. Ana backed away, that last move was extreme. Arthur grabs her arm before she trips off the boat.

John looks at Dutch, then to the swamp, cringing at the reptile beginning its feast. A pool of blood was stretching out into the water, it was a deep shade of red. It was a sickening sight. "Jesus. What part of your philosophy books cover feeding a feller to a goddam alligator, Dutch?"

Dutch kept his eyes fixated away from John. "The part that covers weakness… that part."

Ana felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her entire body. She fell back into her seat, covering her mouth while she gagged. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary, but she was lucky to not vomit. She was trembling, her system felt on edge. Arthur rubbed her back like a sensitive father caring for a sick child.

John threw his arms up. "I don't know…"

Dutch raised his voice sternly while lifting himself onto the dock. He doesn't notice the state of his lover. He's too high on his own adrenaline to pay attention to anything. "Well, I do. I know it ain't nice. But it is us, or him. Figured it might as well be him." He left, leaving Arthur, John and Ana behind.

John took over the task of tending to a traumatized girl, he pulled her closer by the waist. Arthur gave them some space. "I shouldn't have helped him."

He plants his lips onto her shoulder, lifting his face slightly to speak. "Easy now… you didn't know he was gonna take it that far. Stop blaming yourself for things you had no control over. You've gotta move on, know better for next time. Otherwise, you'll go crazy, right?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Just take me home. Please, Marston."

A/N: Such an intense chapter to write. Don't know about you guys but the Bronte scene honestly freaked me out in the game. Anyways, hope you all enjoy this chapter. Please review the fic!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	20. Chapter 20

The next day…

No one that was there could erase the memory of Bronte's killing. Ana hadn't witnessed that side of Dutch before. What frightened her the most was that it reminded her of herself, when she had slit the throat of Catherine Braithwaite. If no one had stopped her, she would've done worse to her father. They were truly awful human beings, but do living embodiments of evil deserve to be murdered in cold blood? Ana wasn't sure. She found herself questioning her own morals for the first time in her life. There was a killer instinct in her that she inherited from her father. A darkness that revealed itself occasionally. Dutch and she shared this hidden characteristic.

She didn't see any solution other than ignoring it. What else could she do? Hate herself until it went away? That wasn't a realistic option in her opinion. She crawled into bed last night, listening to her older lover's soft breathing. He's always been a quiet sleeper. But that night she just wanted to be alone, the way she used to live months ago. No more men fighting for her time. No more angry stares from Karen. No more killing folk. And no more Micah occupying her every thought.

She dreamt of Molly strangling her. When she finally wakes up, she gasps desperately to fill her lungs with oxygen. She touches her neck, recalling the feeling of the dead woman's nails digging into her. It was the sort of nightmare that leaves you disoriented, searching for your reality through puffy eyelids.

Ana pinched her cheeks to look more alive, throwing on a frilly green blouse and dark trousers to appear presentable. Everyone was awake and occupied with chores by the time she made her way to a stale pot of coffee. She drank the cool liquid, wrinkling her nose at the taste. She spots Arthur nearby with a shiny pen in his journal, she approaches him, leaning on her right leg and crossing her arms when she speaks.

"You gonna show me what you're hiding in that journal of yours?"

He glares at her, his blue eyes squinting defensively. "Can't a man have some privacy?"

She raises a dark brow. "Of course he can. Can't a woman be curious?"

They exchange a silent stare. Arthur looks away first, flipping through his brown leather book. "Fine. I'll show you one thing, that's it." He gives up his most prized possession to her. She lifts it up, examining a detailed sketch of herself. The woman looked like a stranger, her expression was neutral while she rested against a recognizable oak tree. There was a cigarette burnt halfway between her fingers. This woman was stronger, older and more beautiful than her reflection.

"So this is how you see me, huh Morgan?" She hands him back the journal, deciding to respect his privacy.

He slides it into his satchel, pushing on the ground to stand up. "Don't flatter yourself. I draw them sketches whenever someone new joins the gang."

"Uh-huh. I bet you do. How many you got of Sadie in there?"

Arthur shot her a look, his cheeks turning a shade of tomato red. "Watch it girl. You don't wanna get thrown in a swamp, do you?"

She takes a cautious step backwards. "Alright, alright I hear you. I'll behave…" They share a nostalgic chuckle at a shared memory. She exhales through her lips, pushing back her hair. "You know we gotta talk now, don't you?"

He presses his lips into a line, nodding understandingly. "Yeah so, talk. What we gonna do about…" he pauses, scanning the surrounding area for anyone, "you know what."

She puts her hands on her hips, pacing in a small circle. "Gotta try something else. Something safer. Was thinking yesterday, what if we got him drunk and I charmed it outta him? Might actually work, considering none of them girls will even look at him. It's worth trying, don't you think?"

Arthur tilted his head back and forth, thinking briefly. It was still risky, but they had to at least try one more time before going straight to Dutch. "Fine, do it. Just be careful, you hear me? He ain't no gentleman. I'll get everyone drinking later. Nothing better than some whiskey before robbing a big city bank." He sarcastically emphasized the last three words.

"Sure thing. I'll catch you later, Morgan." They parted ways, a nervous knot growing in her stomach.

…

It doesn't take a lot of convincing to get the gang drinking. It was later in the evening and the booze was already flowing. The atmosphere was rowdy, accompanied by cheerful songs and loud, delightful cackles. Ana hated the taste of warm beer, but she didn't particularly enjoy waking up with a pounding headache in the morning. Hard liquor does that to her. Dutch and Hosea have been missing all day, she guessed they're scouting the city for their next job. The last one ever, if Dutch is right. She just hoped everything would go smoothly after that mess at the trolley station.

She's about to look for Micah when the sound of classical music comes from the distance, someone twirls her unexpectedly. It's Javier, he smells strongly of smoke.

"Come _Bella_ dance with me!" There's no harm in a friendly dance, she figures. They smile gleefully as he performs all sorts of fancy flares, she follows his lead since she's no dancer.

"Who taught you to dance like that, Escuella?" He dips her towards the ground, supporting her by her waist.

"A girl I almost married. Her name was Isabella, she was a beauty if I ever saw one."

"Mind if I ask what happened?" she asks considerately. There are plenty of men here who lost the love of their lives, it was a common pattern for outlaws.

"Same thing that always happens, she left when she got tired of my lifestyle. Men like me don't hold on to a civilized woman for long. That's why Dutch is lucky to have you around. You're one of the good ones."

They keep up their fast-paced movements despite the serious conversation. "Dutch? I think you're forgetting 'bout someone else. Also, there ain't no such thing as 'one of the good ones.' We're all just people, Javier, and people usually aren't good or bad."

The Mexican man wasn't all that interested in her insight. He shrugged apathetically. "All I'm saying is that you've got one man with no woman and another man with a beautiful lady who's pining after him. She's also probably the mother of his child. The odds are in Dutch's favour. Besides, he's always been able to charm any woman he meets."

Ana feels sickened by his opinion because he has a point. She swallows nervously, biting her lip. "I ain't looking for no husband, my friend. It's not a competition, it's just how I'm living my life for now. And Abigail? She don't love John no more, at least that's what he told me…"

Their dance stops, Javier plants a hand on her slender shoulder. "Stop kidding yourself, Ana. Doesn't pretending get tiring? Dutch can give you a life… John wants to, but he can't."

She smacks his hand away, her brows furrowing. "Why does everyone feel like they can tell me how to live my life? It's my life, not yours. Please just leave me be." She walks away, grabbing her third beer from a box and continuing her search for Micah. She spots him sitting on his bedroll with an emptied bottle of whiskey in his lap. Ana sits across from him, offering the drink she took for herself.

"Why don't you take a seat by the fire?" she asks normally. If she cozied up to him too much, he'd get the wrong idea.

He takes the beer, opening it with his back teeth and spitting the cap out. "Cause I'd rather not listen to good ol' Bill's war stories." His slurred speech and wandering eyes make his intoxication obvious.

Ana controls her fake laugh into a breathy giggle. If anyone else had said that, she would've found it genuinely humorous. "He sure does like to talk whenever he drinks."

Micah leans back, supporting his weight with his hands on the ground. He tilts his head curiously. "What's got you acting all friendly, cowgirl? Finally get the stick outta your ass? Or are you looking for a change in company? Cause I can be real friendly…" He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Marston wouldn't tell me how you like it. But Dutch, oh, he told me all about you. Said you're like a wild horse that needs to be tamed, makes sense considering how sweaty he is after you two aren't seen in camp for a while."

In any other situation, Ana would've punched him so hard that he'd lose a tooth. It took all her willpower to remain calm. Micah was just trying to make her mad like he so often did. She physically bit her tongue until the urge to curse at him had passed. "How flattering. Just trying to be nice, Micah. Is that so hard to believe?"

He tosses the glass bottle nearby, it shatters. The broken glass sits in the middle of camp, asking to be stepped on with a white glare caused by the full moon. "Because women like you are too stubborn to change their mind. I know your type. You're just waiting till I say something stupid, so you can run off and tell everybody. Well, I ain't gonna say nothing, you're wasting your time." He got up and walked away. Ana rolled her eyes, she'd have to tell Dutch now, there was no other way. She couldn't let him ruin the bank job, if she was right about his intentions, he'd tell the law about everything. The Pinkertons would never waste the chance to catch the gang stealing all that money.

Ana got up, brushing the nonexistent dirt off her pants. It was getting late, too late to think clearly, or was that the drink hitting her when she stood? She couldn't tell. A sharp pain stung like a bee when she began walking. A shard of glass had pierced her thin leather boot. It didn't cross her mind to watch her step. She winces, lowering herself to the ground. Her whimper caught the attention of a nearby John, who dropped a stick he was sharpening to see what happened. He kneels by her side, taking her foot in his hand.

"Clumsy girl. You gotta learn to be more careful." Ana squints, looking aggravated even though she's in pain.

"Shut up, Marston! Ain't my fault no one taught you boys how to dispose of glass properly!" She pulls on the overgrown grass to suppress the agony.

John wheezes. He found her reaction funny after drinking an unreasonable amount of rum. "Alright, I'll help you cause I owe you one. Next time you gotta look where you're heading."

He tended to her wound with all the focus he could muster. Tenderly sliding off her boot, smoothly removing the small piece of glass while she pulled grass out from the dirt, pouring the last drop of rum on her cut and wrapping her foot with some cloth. It hurt like a venomous snake bite, but she was relieved to have it taken care of. John held onto her as they walked. He gave her some whiskey to send her to sleep.

She sipped on the bottle that made her throat tingle. "What would I do without you, Marston?"

He looked down at the woman who clung to him as if her life depended on it. He didn't mind, her warm body reddened his cheeks and loosened his mind. "I reckon someone else would've come if I wasn't there. And you could take care of yourself if you had to." He grunts softly while carrying her up the stairs.

She hums to herself, eyeing his door instead of her own. "That was my way of saying thank you… but thank you, really." They look at each other at the same time, enveloped by one another's scent. Ana locks her lips onto his neck, impulsively kissing his scratchy skin. He wanted her closer, to feel her soft bare skin against every inch of his body. The memorable sound of Dutch speaking could now be heard throughout the whole house. It stopped him from going any further. He pulls away sweetly and kisses her cheek.

"Let's get you to bed, Ana."

The next day…

Dutch was standing on the dock when Ana knew it was time to expose Micah's plans. The bank robbery was planned for the following morning. There was an excitement in the air, like children waiting for Christmas. She needed to at least warn him in case something goes wrong, which would happen if Micah had half a brain. There was also the chance he'd back down if Dutch grew suspicious of him. Ana was also prepared for Dutch to completely reject such an accusation, he may even force her to leave.

She stomped over to him with confidence, her arms swinging by her sides. Dutch heard her coming, he greeted her with a glint in his eyes and a lazy smile. "You look like you have something to say, Miss Fetcher."

Her breath was shaky, it made it difficult to speak without stuttering. "Again with the formalities? And y-yes, I do gotta say something. It's real important, promise me you'll listen?"

He slapped his book shut. Repeating the last sentence he read in his head. _Trust those with heart, dismiss those without one_. He took a few strides closer to the woman whose face he'd memorized daily since they met. "Come on then, out with it. You ain't got no reason to be shy."

She maintained eye contact despite all her reservations. An inability to articulate herself could be interpreted as lying, so she spoke slowly. "Micah is up to something, I know it in my bones, Dutch. Colm knew about you and me. He was the one who insisted you meet with the man. I-I think he was tryin' to get rid of me. Now, I wasn't gonna come to you without some sort of proof," she dug her hand into her satchel, revealing the crumpled piece of paper with the gang's bounties on it. Dutch stares at it blankly. "Everything's been going to shit cause Micah is jacking up our bounties till he can turn us into the law and walk away rich."

Dutch's silence was unbearable. He was tense, confused and disturbed. He slipped the note in his back pocket, nodding like a man who's not grasping the seriousness of a situation. "I figured someone was going behind our backs, but that don't mean it's Micah. Could be John for all I know. This don't prove nothing."

Ana ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling with a heavy weight of frustration. It didn't come as a shock that Dutch would need further convincing. "What does John have to gain from this? I found the damn page in Micah's journal!"

Dutch looked at her as if she was half-crazed. "Micah don't write, Ana." His dismissive tone was starting to piss her off. She could feel her cheeks and ears turning a shade of bright red.

"He lied to you, all he's been doing is lying. And he will be the downfall of this family if you don't believe me."

The air was still and silent besides the distant chatter coming from camp. Dutch approaches her, grabbing her firmly by the back of her neck and pressing his thumb onto her cheek. "It ain't no one's place to tell me who they think is manipulating me. I know someone is doing something, and I assure you I will find the culprit once we're gone from this wretched place. But now ain't the time to hunt down a traitor. Have some goddamn faith, would you? Leave Micah be, he ain't doing you no harm."

She spoke, her voice smooth but powerful. Their personalities were clashing, like fire and ice. Completely opposite elements that have the potential to inflict extreme harm. "How can you ask the people you love to have faith in you when you don't even trust them? Believe what you will about Micah, if people die it's on you."

He releases her as if she's a nuisance at this moment. The stress had never weighed him down so much. No one had ever challenged him this way, besides Hosea. A shattered pride led him to ignorance. The kind of ignorance that strips you of logic and compassion. Tomorrow would be the beginning of the end for the Van der Linde gang. Fate once set in stone is not easy to break. In spite of all her fears and doubts, Ana never questions her own strength. The fading words of her mother echo throughout her mind, rippling in a pattern that she was desperately holding onto.

 _A man's pride is sort of like loading cargo on a horse. Too much burden and it collapses, Ana. When a feller can keep his legs sturdy and straight while the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, then you've found yourself a keeper._

The next morning…

I had no trouble waking up since I'd spent the night outside. I'd forgotten what it's like to be woken by the forceful glare of the sun. It was a hot, humid day in Lemoyne, the sort of weather you become accustomed to in the south. How I long for the cold mornings of Strawberry. The cups of coffee warming your insides and fingers instead of adding to the heat. It was the day of the bank job, or what Dutch likes to call 'one last score'. It's like he's writing some fantasy book that needs an epic ending. I'd told Arthur about his response to the Micah situation yesterday, he was unshaken, to say the least. We both saw his dismissal coming, yet I'd still wished for more. Maybe he'll at least keep it in mind if something goes terribly wrong today. All I can do is tag along and protect the gang. God knows they'll need it while robbing that enormous bank.

We're surely leaving soon, I slipped on a fancy pink dress I'd bought for the occasion. It made me look like a preacher's daughter. How ironic. Arthur burst through the front door, tugging at his suit uncomfortably. He motions for me to join him.

"You wanna ride with me?" he asks.

I passively shrug. "Ain't we all riding together?" I spot Abigail and Hosea departing in some fancy wagon before everyone else. No one's told me any details about this master distraction, all Hosea said was that we'll know it when we see it.

Arthur scratches the back of his neck. "Folk in Saint Denis ain't used to seeing a well-dressed lady riding on her own. You'll be safer with me." He's right. Now ain't the time to attract unnecessary attention. We hop on his impressive black steed. His horse is truly a magnificent creature compared to mine. John sends me a baffled look as we start riding.

"You better not get yourself hurt, that foot of yours has barely healed." I wave off his concern before someone overhears. A cut isn't going to stop me from getting in on the action.

"I'll be fine. There ain't no rest for the wicked, Marston." I wiggle my eyebrows at him, tipping the fancy floral hat I wore. We ride right behind Dutch, who hasn't spoken a word to me so far. Probably because arguing is a distraction no one needs right now.

"This is it, my friends, the last one." Dutch sounds proud, his posture is confident, just like the day we met.

John audibly scoffs in return. I can almost hear him rolling his brown eyes. "Where have we heard that before?"

"What has happened to you, John? You've lost all your heart." Dutch's shoulders tense. I picture the scowl on his face.

"Would the two of you just save it for later? We can debate matters of the heart once we execute the goddamn plan. Fighting is failure's ultimate fuel," I say bluntly.

Dutch's shoulders drop, I'd quoted a novel he'd lent me a while back. The sound of my voice must've taken him by surprise. He finally addresses my presence. "She… she's right. Let's go over the plan, one last time. Hosea and Abigail draw out the police, we go in calm and fast. John, Lenny and Anastasia will secure the front doors. Javier takes the side exit. Bill, Micah and Charles, control the crowd. Arthur and me deal with the bank manager and vault. Got it?" Everyone answers with their own version of acknowledgement. "Any trouble, you head back to camp and we'll leave in a few days. This is it, cowpokes, one more time!" His voice cracks with passion, I hold onto Arthur as his horse begins to gallop.

The ride in is quick and quiet. We hitch our horses across the street from the bank, acting natural while we wait for Hosea's distraction. John seems to be the most nervous of us all. "Looks like there's law over on the other side," he said to no one in particular.

I sneak a hand onto his lower back, hoping to offer him some sort of comfort through my discreet caress. I whisper into his ear, "I'll watch your back if you watch mine?"

He smiles knowingly, "Always." We separate when Dutch turns to us.

"Have a modicum of faith, John, will you please? Soon as we get out, load everything onto the wagon Bill rode in on," Dutch says while scanning the area, a cigar between his fingers. The waiting is painful, seconds felt like hours. When I'm about to question the timing, the ground shakes, a cloud of black smoke rises from a building down the street. Dutch snickers in amazement. "Love that Hosea, he's a true artist."

We cross the street in a hurry, pulling up our masks while we do so. John, Lenny and I stop in front of the main entrance while everyone else enters. The shouting, screaming and shooting don't take longer than a few seconds to start. The streets are chaos, fearful men and women were running away from the explosion. No one notices a few armed outlaws with guns outside the bank. This plan could actually work.

I turn to John, "See anything?" More shots fired inside, guess the manager isn't being too cooperative.

He looks around the corner, seeming shocked that no one has seen us. "No… no. We might actually be alright. Anything on the right?"

I squint when I see something moving, but it's just a street cat. "Nope. If we get through this unharmed Mr. M, drinks are on me." He chuckles nervously. Bill's voice has a growl to it when he demands the vault code.

In the corner of my eye, I see a man approaching us in a suit. When I turn to fully look, he's sprinting, followed by another dozen men. My eyes widen with panic. "Boys, someone's coming!"

John looks through the scope of his rifle. He shouts so that everyone can hear. "We got trouble! Looks like the law!" He pushes me inside, we take cover by the door. I move next to a window to see what's going on. I hold onto my gun with sweaty hands. When I take a look, Agent Moron has Hosea bent over with a gun to his head. Micah set us up, just as I expected he would. I should've done more, refused to let them go. Now Hosea will die because I didn't do enough.

"Dutch, get out here, get out here now!" Milton shoves the gun closer to Hosea's skull with every word. My heart is on the brink of exploding.

Dutch knowingly looks to me, then back to the window. He is torn. If he walks out there, he will die, if he stays, Hosea is done. He begins a speech; his voice is shaky. "Mr. Milton… let my friend go. Or folks are gonna get shot unnecessarily."

Milton mocks him with a laugh. "Your friend? Ha, why would I do that?" I can't willingly watch this happen. Something needs to be done, and if I die then so be it. I charge towards the exit, ignoring the hand and shouting that attempt to stop me from leaving. When I make an appearance outside, Milton is utterly shocked. He hesitates before speaking.

"That you, Miss Fetcher? I asked for Dutch and he sends you in his place? What a coward." I toss my weapons to the ground, Hosea looks at me with sorrowful eyes. He's already mourning my death.

"Let that man go, Milton. I'll come with you instead, you have my word." I begin slowly walking towards the Pinkertons, who have every gun fixated on me. One wrong move and we'll both die.

"Why?" His question was one I had prepared to answer, I spoke plainly in return.

"My friends back there are dangerous men. You ain't catching them today, so take me. At least that way you ain't leaving emptyhanded." He takes a moment to think before releasing Hosea, no one fires. I shove the older man towards the door before his men grab me, pulling me away before anyone has the chance to shoot them. The firefight begins instantaneously, my name can be heard being shouted through the streets. They shove me onto the cement ground, binding me with rope.

I've just gotten myself into a heap of trouble.

A/N: this took super long to release, I'm sorry! I've been working out where the story is heading, and I've got a pretty good sense of direction now. I hope you guys don't find Ana being kidnapped twice a bit of an overkill, it does make sense because anyone connected to the gang is in danger. Her relationship with Dutch makes her a target, simple as that. Thank you for the support, I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	21. Chapter 21

One day later…

Ana didn't know what she was thinking when she so willingly gave herself to the Pinkertons, it was practically a death sentence. She knew it and so did Hosea. The last look he gave her was utterly grief-stricken, like saying goodbye to a young pup before it had the chance to live. She'd saved his life in exchange for her own. At least that's what she thought yesterday before they blindfolded her and brought her to a cold, wet prison cell outside of Saint Denis. This was no ordinary prison, it was a basement in their headquarters. She found it strange that a bunch of fancy lawmen would take shelter in what was obviously an abandoned fort from the Civil War. The bricks were unstable, pushing further into the ground as the years went by. The grass was peaking between the cracks of the deteriorating floorboards, which creaked obnoxiously at the slightest movement. She was tied up to a beam that stopped the ceiling from collapsing. It was a smart move, hiding somewhere no outlaw would ever think to search.

No one had spoken to her yet. The only signs of life were mumbled conversations between agents, and Milton yelling at his subordinates about not capturing Dutch yet. Their ambush at the bank had failed, besides for the killing of young Lenny Summers, whose growing ambitions were crushed like a tulip rising from the dirt after a long winter. The news had come to her through Milton's prideful announcement. No one deserved to die the way he did. Innocent, eager and resilient. All his potential was wiped away with a single bullet. It angered her, though it was a relief to know that no one else had been hurt. They had mentioned something about arresting one of them, who they handed over to the sheriff. That didn't worry her too much since surely someone would rescue whoever was taken.

Now it was a waiting game for her. Waiting to escape or die. The most probable outcome wasn't clear. The security was too heavy for anyone to save her. It's not like she needed saving anyways, playing the damsel in distress was a role she detested.

It was late in the evening when Milton swung the door open, walking down the steps as if they'd break if he moved too quickly. His pink face that's covered with fading scars was illuminated by a golden lantern. He had a bowl of steaming potatoes and carrots in his other hand.

"Here I was beginning to think you weren't gonna bother feeding me. I'm forever in your debt, Mr. Milton." Her sarcasm was a weapon of insult, not a humorous tactic. He narrowed his vision at the woman whose hair was falling on her face. Her makeup had worn off, exposing freckles on her nose and cheeks.

"We're not savages ma'am. We don't starve our prison-… guests. You'll be taken care of during your stay, as long as you comply." He took a seat, beginning to spoon-feed her. She ate because her stomach couldn't take the agony of emptiness any longer.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want, Milton?" He set down the bowl, fiddling with his fingers.

"Nothing, actually. You're just a pawn in a game of chess. A piece of the puzzle. An insignificant solution to a problem. You see, even if we can't catch Mr. Van der Linde in a traditional manner, we can break him. Nothing ruins a man more than stripping him of possessions he values deeply. Once his strength falters, we'll squash him like a fly." He raises a clenched fist to her face; deep-rooted hate is present in his bloodshot eyes.

She backed away even though there was nowhere to hide. His threats were never intimidating before, he was like a spoiled brat who thought he could control how an entire society functions. Now his hate represented how so many felt about outlaws. It made her fear for the lives of her family. "That all? I'd really like to get back to my dinner."

He ignored her request, continuing pigheadedly. "You think you're better than me, don't you? Can you honestly say that you enjoy living like a savage, destroying the lives of honest folk and stealing from this great country? Or do dumb whores like yourself even bother to consider the consequences of your wrongdoings?" His tone became cruel and degrading. The certainty of power he held over her fed his craving for dominance. He wanted to watch her suffer. He wraps his fingers around her delicate neck, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when I kill you." He spits on her, releasing her from his grip and leaving with her meal in a hurry. She desperately fills her lungs with air while warm, salty tears run down her face, dangling off her chin. When she manages to recover, a wave of helplessness overcomes her. She was a child again, with no means of protection or strength. There was no Dutch, John, Arthur or anyone there to get her out. She stifles her sobs by biting her quivering lip. She hadn't lost her willpower to tears since Colm took her, even his physical torture was better than Milton's outlandish rants. He was fully prepared to break her spirit until she didn't value her life anymore.

She curses at herself, scanning the dimly lit room for anything that could help her escape. Nothing but old books covered in dust. The currently useless objects are mocking her inside her imagination, laughing at how there was no solution. She once prided herself on her resourcefulness. It felt embarrassing that there was nothing she could do but wait.

An image of Micah popped into her head. His dirty smirk and greasy blonde hair were revolting. She asked herself repeatedly if there was any chance that Dutch would still trust the snake after the ambush. The answer was probably, considering how thick his skull is.

One month later…

Arthur, Micah, Bill, Dutch and Javier had spent the last few weeks on some dreadful island called Guarma off of Cuba. After days spent fighting and practically starving, they managed to escape on a boat. The trip back had taken quite some time, the men were burnt and exhausted. Their weary states resulted in heated discussions and assertive planning from Dutch, who was anxious to get back to the gang. He wasn't sure what to expect. Had they split up or found each other? What if the Pinkertons had got to them? Was anyone able to save Ana?

He was angry. Angry he hadn't been able to shoot the men who grabbed her. Angry he hadn't been the one who reached for her when she walked out of the bank. Angry he hadn't told her how he really felt about her. He couldn't bear the thought of her not being alive. The moment when she was taken replayed in his head.

…

"Ana! I can't get a fucking shot on them without hitting her! Arthur? Dutch?" John spoke so powerlessly at that moment, pleading desperately at the men who were better shots than himself. The Pinkertons' firepower was constant, their heads could be blown off if they weren't careful.

Dutch stood in shock, trying to get a solid aim on the men who were dragging away the woman in a flowy pink dress. He wanted to tell her how beautiful the garment looked on her, but they weren't speaking that morning. She was gone in seconds, she hadn't resisted.

Arthur curses under his breath. "I... I couldn't get the goddamn shot, I'm sorry. Should I go after her?!"

Hosea was crouched below the window, his hands over his skull which had almost had a hole in it less than a minute ago. "You go out there and you're dead… Dutch? You there?! What should we do?"

…

He snaps back to reality. It was finally his time to get off the boat and search for the gang. It didn't take long to find the mysterious letter someone had left for him at the post office. The ride to the secluded swamp community felt drawn-out since he didn't have his unbeatable albino steed to get him there in half the time. He pushed back his messy hair before entering the warm cabin where everyone was waiting, they gathered around him excitedly, calling his name with relief. Hosea was the first one to give him a quick hug.

"Well look what the cat dragged in… you look awful, my friend." The older man smirks, he was beginning to miss his long-time friend.

"We made it alright, just barely. Boy am I glad to see all of you… how'd you folks find each other? What the hell happened? Can someone get me a cup of coffee or something?" Dutch's eyes have a warm glow to them as he scans all the faces he's grown to love. Tilly returns quickly with a glass full of the warm drink he'd been deprived of for so long.

Strauss steps up from the crowd, motioning enthusiastically to a nearby Sadie. "It was Mrs. Adler who saved us, Dutch. After the robbery in Saint Denis she got us out of the camp before the Pinkertons showed up. Then Mrs. Adler and Mr. Smith drove away the degenerates who were living here!"

Dutch nods appreciatively towards her. "We owe you, Mrs. Adler…thank you." He zones out, searching for the one face of a woman he was praying to see. "What about Anastasia? Any idea where they took her?"

Sadie sighs heavily. "I…Charles and I looked all over for her. There was no sign, Dutch. I-I don't know if she's alive, or where them Pinkertons are keeping her. It don't look good, I'm sorry."

He stares into his cup. He felt guilty for not asking sooner. Abigail interrupts before he responds, "They got John too, he's in jail. There's been talk of hanging him, Dutch…" He simply nods, too preoccupied to process that information.

Tilly looks up at him with wide eyes, speaking with a hint of hesitation. "It's been real hard, Dutch. We… we've been surviving but only just. What we gonna do?"

There's a moment of delay before the fearless leader musters all the courage he has left. He knows he has to stay strong to keep the gang alive. "Things have been tough, there ain't no doubt about that. Trust me, I am gonna get us out of here. Ain't none of this over."

Micah creeps in from the shadows. "Ain't none of you folks interested in our adventures?"

Abigail rolls her eyes with an annoyance for the man who never fails to be an asshole. "Guess we're more interested in escaping the hangmen on our tail."

He snickers at the woman who walks away, examining her figure. "Cheerful nymph of the prairie, wasn't you, Abigail?"

"Oh sure, my fair heart jumps for joy when I set my eyes on you, Micah." He retreats with one last teasing chuckle. She returns with a cup of coffee. "We buried Lenny. Charles and I stole his body from the law and buried him on a pretty hill just outside Valentine. Figured he wouldn't like being buried in Lemoyne. It was real nice." Everyone nods respectfully, remembering the cheerful young man. A shouting Bill bursts through the door, putting an end to the moment of remembrance.

"Well, here you idiots are. I've been asking around for hours until finally, someone knew! Said you fools were out here." He points demandingly at Sadie. "Shit... get me a drink woman!"

She growls back, uninterested in serving the entitled man. "Get your own damn drink!"

Dutch steps in before it gets needlessly heated between them. "In our absence, Mrs. Adler has been looking after things." He hands him a silver mug, he grumbles in return. "Now sit down…"

An authoritative voice shouts from outside. They slowly get up, dreading the sight of Agent Milton. What no one was anticipating was the view of Ana, slumped into the arm of an unnamed Pinkerton, who was using her as cover, so they couldn't shoot him. His gun was pressed against her cheek. Dutch squints, taking a better look at the woman he almost didn't recognize.

She was in the same pink dress, though it was covered in dirt and had a noticeable rip in the middle, exposing her undergarments. It seems as though she's lost about ten pounds and hadn't slept for weeks. Her skin was pale from not seeing the sun for a month. There was a black cloth tied tightly around her mouth to stifle her screams. The Pinkertons had given her a sedative to prevent her from escaping or fighting back. She could barely make out anything Milton was saying.

"Give them to a count of five, then give 'em everything. Actually, let 'em have it!" The Gatling Gun starts firing, the sound is loud enough to alert her. She looks around, her vision unclear from the rain.

The shooting stops when Milton begins another one of his ill-mannered speeches. "You fools weren't listening to me, were you? I showed mercy… and you all mistook it for weakness. Now I will show strength and you may mistake it for brutality. There is no escape for any of you. I shall hunt you to the ends of the earth and the end of time. I killed your friend and I will kill this one right now. I'll enjoy killing each and every one of you!"

Arthur suddenly kicks down the door of a side building, taking the Pinkertons by surprise. They all scramble to shoot at him, but he's killed nearly every single one of them in his sight before they have the chance to fire. The man holding Ana retreats, dropping the weak girl onto the ground. Arthur shoots him down before he escapes. He sprints over to her, cutting the binds that kept her from getting up.

"Ana? You alright? Can you hear me, Ana?!" He slaps her lightly to grab her attention. When he realizes she's not getting up on her own, he carries her to Charles who ran outside to help. He rushes back to the shootout when he hands her over.

Charles hastily brings her inside, setting her down at the back of the cabin. Dutch watches her with concern. None of them can tend to her until the fight is over. Hosea reaches for her hand, holding onto her tightly.

"Come on kiddo, stay awake. We ain't gonna let anyone get you again, I swear." She opens her eyes slightly, looking at him with a dazed expression. She's able to form thoughts now.

"H-Hosea? Wha-… where?" she mumbles, finding the sound of her own voice unfamiliar from not having spoken in weeks.

"Don't you worry. We're in the swamp outside Saint Denis. Do you remember how you got here? Come on honey, keep on talking to me." He squeezes her hand reassuringly, hoping to distract her from the gunfire and shouting.

She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, searching her clouded memory. She pictures Milton, then whimpering softly at her recollection. "M-Milton, he got me. Is he here?"

Hosea nods slowly, not wanting to say anything that would frighten her. "No, think he ran off when the shooting started." He pauses, wanting to change the subject. "You must be starving, what you feel like having, dear?"

She chuckles faintly before answering. "You might not believe me, but I could go for a steaming bowl of Pearson's stew right now." He joins her in smiling, feeling thankful that she's becoming more alert. The shooting finally stops, everyone gets up when Bill yells that it's all clear. Arthur and Sadie run inside to see what state Ana's in. Dutch falls on his knees before her, cupping her face.

"Oh, oh my dear girl, you can't imagine how happy I am to see you… I… are you… Ana are you alright? Did they hurt you? I'll kill that bastard if he put a finger on you, I swear."

She can't help but smile a little at the sight of an imperfect Dutch. Unwashed and unkempt, red vest stained with sweat, tanned skin and a burnt nose. He even smelled poorly, but she could care less since she wasn't close to clean herself. "You're asking me if I'm alright, Dutch? Have you looked in the mirror?" He laughs in disbelief from hearing her crack a joke after everything she went through. Milton hadn't broken her.

Dutch presses his forehead against hers, hoping to send a message without words. To apologize, confess and love with a simple gesture. He intertwines his fingers with hers, absorbing her presence. He begins planting soft kisses all over her face to familiarize himself with the feeling of her smooth skin. He lingers on her lips, humming gently into a kiss. Hosea watches a moment of unparalleled intimacy with a moderate amount of shock. Even Annabelle hadn't cast such a strong spell over Dutch.

Arthur approaches when their moment comes to an end. "You know what, you're an idiot. A brave idiot, but still an idiot."

She licks her lips, knowing exactly what he's referring to. "Maybe. But I know we'd be screwed without Hosea. So yeah, I am a fool. A fool that did what had to be done."

Hosea shakes his head rapidly. "You're lucky you ain't dead. Don't ever pull a stunt like that again."

She shrugs nonchalantly as if it was no big deal in her eyes. She scans the room, gulping nervously. "Where's Marston?"

Abigail steps forward anxiously, her hands moving along with her words. "They got 'em locked up in Sisika Penitentiary. They're gonna hang him if he ain't out soon." Ana stiffens while listening carefully to the visibly upset woman before her. Her panic was born out of love, love for the same man who she deeply cares for. Javier was right; Abigail is falling for John once again. She shakes the thought out of her mind, looking over to Dutch who was thinking vigilantly.

"Abigail, I… I don't know if now is the right time. The law will get us in a matter of days if we break him out, it just ain't doable."

Hosea stands up suddenly, looking aggressively puzzled. "That's a load of horseshit, Dutch! John needs our help, there ain't no debating the matter, he's family. I reckon we send in a small team to collect him. They'll find a way to get him out quickly without causing too much of a fuss."

Dutch stares at his boots, which are lathered with slimy mud. He internally weighs the pros and cons of taking this risk. Eventually, he yields to his mentor's pressure. "Fine. Arthur, Sadie and Charles, get him out and don't get yourselves caught. We got enough trouble on our hands." They nod in agreement. It was a relief that the matter hadn't blown up into an argument.

Ana addresses Arthur who towers six feet above her from the ground. "Let me know if you'll be needing an extra gun and I'll be there."

The dirty blonde-haired man opens his mouth to speak, Dutch's disciplinary voice stops him from doing so. "They can manage just fine. And you, my beloved, need time to rest. It's been tough, we all need to clean up and heal."

She wants to say that she's fine, but she's practically falling asleep on the floor. The gang separates, finding a hammock or thin bedroll to catch some shuteye. Dutch scoops up Ana, bringing her to a private cabin nearby. He lays her down on a hammock, joining her since there's just enough room for the two of them. Their bodies are tangled and inseparable, she falls asleep on his chest.

The next day…

I've never been more thrilled to bathe before, to scrub off a month's worth of muck and grime, my hair was a shade lighter by the time it was dry. I caught a glimpse of my bare body in a broken, murky mirror. I was weaker than before, but it wouldn't take long to regain the muscle I'd lost. A short-sleeved blue cotton blouse and dark trousers felt like a cloud lifting me up to some godly paradise. Clearly, I'd grown a new appreciation for personal grooming.

The sun was shining down onto our little corner of the swamp. I'd missed the fresh air, no matter how humid it was here. Charles and Arthur were already scouting for a new camp, we'd be moving by tomorrow at the latest. Despite all our troubles, we are somehow alive, and we could actually make it through this.

To my utter disdain, Micah had survived everything, how convenient. I'm convinced he was behind the ambush in Saint Denis, but I'll deal with him once I'm better. Sore muscles and fatigue aren't ingredients in the recipe for success.

I take a seat next to Dutch, who is looking up to the cloudless sky and whispering a plan that was brewing between the walls of his thick skull. "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Van der Linde?"

He smiles quaintly, pausing to lift my hand to his mouth. He looks me in the eyes while kissing my skin. I feel an uncontrollable flame reignite within myself. "I am just plotting our next move. We're gonna get out of here, I know it." He looks to me with a craving for validation. "Tell me, Ana, do you trust me?"

I press his warm hand onto my cheek, it nearly covers half my face. "You know I've got your back. Like you've been saying, times have been tough, but I know you'll get us through this, that's what you've always done, right?"

He nods with subtle confidence. "You're right, having you by my side, well, it helps, I suppose." He slides one of the golden rings off his finger, dropping it onto my palm. "Here, take this. No matter what happens, just remember that the man who gave you this… loves you, and always will."

"Oh, Dutch. Where've you been all my life, you old fool?" I slide the ring into my front pocket, leaning in for a thankful kiss. His tongue hungrily finds its way into my mouth, fighting for a taste we've both been stripped of for too long. He wraps his hand around my wrist, guiding me inside, I giggle wildly when he presses me against the wall. His hands tug at my thighs, I wrap my legs around his waist, welcoming him to where heat radiates between my legs. He grinds his hips into mine, groaning with pleasure and sexual frustration. He lowers his hand into my pants, waiting for my reaction when he touches me on the sweetest spot a woman could ever ask for.

Our lovemaking was gentler than usual. He was considerate of my fragile state, asking me how it felt each time he thrusts himself inside of me faster. I was nearly begging for him to pick up the pace near the end. There's nothing more pleasurable than watching a man like Dutch restrain himself for your sake.

…

It was late in the evening when we finally arrived at our new camp near some nasty cave that a bunch of madmen used to run before Arthur and Charles showed up. We were outside a mining town called Annesburg, somewhere I actually have never been. It wasn't a nice area, malnourished savages roamed the forest, ready to butcher whoever passed through. The law wouldn't come looking for us here, hopefully.

I join Arthur, who was contemplating something in front of a tall tree. "How you doing, friend?" I ask politely because he doesn't seem like himself.

He coughs hoarsely into his fist, wiping his mouth before responding. "I've had better days, Ana. I truly have."

I stare uneasily at the spots of blood on his hand. "Did you… Arthur, did you ever go to the doctor like I told you to?"

He sighs tiredly. "Yeah, seen two of them now. I... I ain't well, hun. I don't know what to do…"

Tears strain my vision, I grab onto his shoulder tightly. "Shut up and listen to me for a sec. You're gonna go see them Indians up in the hills, they might have medicine no civilized folk have heard of. I ain't gonna let you give up, Morgan. You deserve more time than the world wants to offer you. Don't let some sickness rule you, okay?"

He presses his mouth shut, seeming cautious of optimism. "I'll go. Don't you go getting your hopes up just yet, tuberculosis is a bastard."

A/N: Wow I never wrote a chapter so quickly (in like two days tbh). I really adored writing all of this, so I hope you guys enjoy. There was such a beautiful moment between Dutch and Ana this chapter, it literally warmed my heart while writing it. Even that one interaction between Hosea and Ana, it was super sweet. I just love where the story is going right now! Please, please send me your feedback and predictions!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	22. Chapter 22

Anastasia has been tossing smooth grey pebbles into a stream that winds through the lively forest. She does not care to know or even question where the endless stream of water is heading, a lake, an ocean, a hole to the centre of the earth. It matters as much as the subconscious movement that goes into throwing a nearly weightless stone.

She had happily adjusted to Beaver Hollow within hours. Anything was an improvement after the time they'd spent outside Saint Denis, a city she predicted she wouldn't be revisiting for a long time, years if she could help it. And it would be several years until she set foot in the industrial hotspot for more than a few hours, though then she would return as a changed woman.

It was cooler near Annesburg. You could actually breathe freely without the resistance of humidity cutting down the satisfaction of oxygen. Even an environment this peaceful wasn't able to distract her from the never-ending concerns surrounding John's rescue today. Every minute or so another question looms over her like a wave intensifying, getting closer to crashing onto shore. What if he's been hung already? How will they find him if he's not working the fields? What happens if they've relocated him to another prison? Question after question, she was descending towards an immobilised existence. She knew that this meant John was a vital part of her life, one she depended on to feel whole. She wouldn't use the word love yet, but it was just that. She was in love with John and Dutch, two men who were polar opposites. Their pride clashed like gasoline and flame, burning everything in its way to ashes.

Hosea snuck up behind her with a steaming silver mug, tapping her shoulder politely before she threw another rock. She looks back at him with a forced side smile. "Hey there." Without a word, he places the drink in her right hand. The scorching liquid is a pale shade of yellow. "Uh, this ain't some sort of cruel joke you're playing on me, right?"

His eyes widen like a deer at the sound of a branch snapping, a second passes before he grins with amusement. "It's nothing like that, my dear. It's lemon tea with a hint of ginger, somethin' rich folk drink. Like they say, coffee is the poor man's tea."

She sips cautiously, the ginger makes her throat tingle. "This ain't half bad. Thank you, Hosea."

He nods humbly, moving his gaze to the narrow river. "I never thanked you properly for what you did… saving me, it was a kindness a man as old as me don't deserve. It's not like I've got much time left, but now I can say my goodbyes and leave with some dignity."

She frowns sympathetically. After decades in this lifestyle, Hosea was ready to die at any time. He didn't want to be a coward since he knew better than most that premature death is usually a guarantee as an outlaw. "As I said before, it had to be done. I ain't been with the gang all that long, but I know what you mean to Dutch and the others. I didn't wanna see what would become of them without you."

He waits for a gust of wind to settle before speaking. A patch of dark clouds was making its way to the forest. The sky was split in half between blinding sunshine and a storm brewing within the rainclouds. It was ideal timing, the trees were growing silently thirsty after a drought.

"You know, I wasn't sure what to make of you when we first met. Thought you was some sort of black widow type when John and Dutch both took a liking to you. I was wrong to judge, you're better than most of us. That's why you gotta get out of here when this is done, live a better, honest life. It's not too late for you, it wasn't either for Lenny…"

Ana absorbs each word like a sponge until a natural capacity for stubbornness causes her open-mindedness to shut down. "I get it, honestly I do… but I just can't abandon a life I've barely started livin'. This is what I chose, freedom. I can't fight my own nature, that's like fighting gravity, Hosea. If I go straight, they'll just find another monster to hunt."

The sound of Dutch's footsteps prevents their talk from going any further. He'd heard what she said, it resonated strongly with him. "I apologize for the interruption but I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. What are the two of you talking so seriously about?"

Hosea and Ana share an understanding that he doesn't need to know what's been said. Ana passes Dutch the half-full drink of tea. "Hosea's been lecturing me on why greedy folk think tea tastes better than coffee. Personally, I don't see a difference."

Dutch gulps down the lukewarm liquid, smacking his chapped lips together. "It's all about mindset, my dear girl."

She casually shrugs her relaxed shoulders, then waving to Hosea, who's left at an echoing call from Strauss. "Are you here to talk or to play, Mr. Van der Linde?" she asks with sass.

The corners of his eyelids wrinkle slyly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She overexaggerates an eyeroll. "Oh, would you look at that, now he's acting all coy! You know exactly what it means. Are you here to talk business or tease me to death?"

There's a crease of amusement tugging his lips upwards. Dutch adored the playful bickering that transpired between them, it made him feel lighter, even younger. She was like a crisp autumn morning after months of drowning in heat. "Men like me only got so much time to spare, Miss Fetcher. I came here with a question, one I'm hoping you can answer, of course."

She wipes the mockful look off her face. Joking was entertaining until its time had passed, then it was disrespectful, and Dutch didn't have much tolerance for a lack of respect. "Ask away," she said with the inviting motion of her hands.

Dutch was articulate throughout his carefully calculated question. "I think we need to hit Milton real hard, so the bastard will leave us be. Now, Micah suggested we go after Cornwall directly, but Hosea is against the idea, thinks it's a sloppy revenge mission. What I need from you is to remember where them Pinkertons are hiding. Can you do that for me?"

Ana scratches the back of her neck uncomfortably, killing Milton seemed just as reckless as going after Cornwall. Even if they managed to get rid of the bastard, the law would find a replacement in weeks, if not days. She inhales sharply through an open mouth, her diaphragm inflating. "I wasn't in my right mind when they got me, Dutch. Couldn't see or think… hell, I can scarcely recall the month I spent rotting in that cell. I can tell you we couldn't have been far outside Saint Denis, probably in some old Civil War fort. I wish I had more to tell, I really do."

Dutch held in a sigh of disappointment. He knew it wasn't her fault, although he was hoping his plan of attack would come together quickly with her help. Still, what she said was better than nothing, he made a mental note to send scouts to the area.

"I cannot see you as culpable for this, don't trouble yourself, my dear girl… what do you think? Going after them Pinkertons… is it worth it?"

Ana thought warily, avoiding any response that would come off as harsh or insulting. She readied herself to speak before a holler from camp grabs their attention.

"John's back! He's back!" shouts Bill who was on guard duty.

Dutch and Ana rush over to where everyone is gathering, spotting a rugged looking John in Abigail's arms for a quick moment. His attention diverts to the faces smiling with relief that surround him.

Hosea greets him cheerfully. "Thank god you made it out. Was there much trouble? Were you followed?"

"We broke Marston out of a goddamn federal prison and you is asking if there was trouble, of course there was!" Arthur exclaims sarcastically.

Hosea ignores him, continuing his questions until John is able to insert a demand of his own. "I'm fine, take it easy. Now would someone tell me where the fuck Fetcher is?"

Ana shoves her way to the front, John's eyes burn into hers expectantly, he was waiting for her embrace despite the audience. Instead, she stomps over to him, pushing him harshly in the chest, he stumbles backwards with a puzzled look on his face. "You mind explaining how you got yourself arrested after all that talk about being careful?! You nearly got yourself hung Marston!"

John chuckles, enjoying the feisty woman he loves deeply. She was in his thoughts every day when he was locked up. He should've known she'd give him crap for getting caught. He had lectured her countlessly on caution. "Simmer down Ana, I was trying to save your ass!"

She stiffens the features of her doll-like face. "Did my ass look like it needed saving? I was planning on getting out and I did! And Hosea ain't dead cause of it."

John shrugs and smirks in a dismissive way that he knows will bother her even more. "An ass like yours is always worth saving."

There's a loaded silence amongst the gang, who are surprised by such a crude joke being made in everyone's presence. A unified laugh grows slowly until it roars throughout the forest. Abigail walks off with Jack, grumbling with mild annoyance at his immaturity. Ana moves to push John again, he stops her by grabbing her wrists and pulling her into a hug.

"It's good to see you too, Stasia." She hesitates at his touch and the use of a foreign nickname. No one had ever called her anything but Ana, Fetcher and occasionally Anastasia.

She unwinds onto him, feeling his quickened heartbeat against her chest. She whispers into his ear, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you ain't dead, Marston."

A few days later…

Ana had finally recovered from the time she spent in captivity. Pearson's stew had helped with gaining back the weight she lost, and hunting with Charles was already getting her back into shape. The gang was doing alright, not thriving, just functioning. It'd been relatively quiet today until Dutch announced he wanted everyone to gather for a meeting after dinner, noting that he had a plan like always. This concerned Ana because Micah had been spending most of his time by Dutch's side, she could hardly get him alone without Micah interrupting or listening in. She could feel her patience melting away like a block of ice under the warm sun. She'd even decided on sleeping at the edge of camp instead of staying with Dutch, the blonde snake's presence unnerved her. She still slept with one eye open. This camp was smaller than Shady Belle, it made juggling two men difficult. Abigail had been spending more and more time with John, that hadn't bothered her as much because Jack was always there. She once promised Abigail that she wouldn't keep John from the boy, she refused to break that agreement for his sake. She still felt her stomach drop each time she saw the child's parents smile at each other, even though there was truly nothing going on, the kiss she'd witnessed a while back hadn't left her mind. It was a flashback that paid her unwanted visits all too often.

The sky was a mixture of pink and blood orange when Dutch invites everyone to listen to him effortlessly spiel. Hosea was missing because his sickness was acting up, he needed the rest. Dutch walks back and forth, using his hands to highlight his passion. "My friends, we are gonna go to New York. Now, they have been chasing us south and east and west. We're gonna get a boat, we're gonna get on a river and we're gonna go north. Then off to Tahiti, the Fiji Islands, or this place New Guinea where we can finally be free… but first, we have to make a whole lot of smoke… a whole lot of commotion, then we disappear."

Dutch finally stops to breathe. He'd spoken so fast it was hard for anyone to keep up. Ana notices John standing next to her, his arms crossed rigidly. "More commotion, really? Ain't we done enough?" he asks with uncertainty noticeable in his raspy voice.

"One score, and one whole hell of a lot of noise, that's all it'll take." Dutch doesn't even look at John when he answers.

Micah gets up from the chair he sat in, joining Dutch's side as if he belongs there. "We're gonna go back for the Blackwater money. That and the train robbery we is planning will be plenty for us to farm mangoes and watch you girls dance in grass skirts for the rest of our lives. Don't that sound fine, boys? I bet even Black Lung likes the sound of that."

Bill and Javier are the only ones who praise the idea by clinking their beers together. When Arthur starts asking more questions, John turns to Ana, mumbling into her ear. "He sure does like pretending to be in charge."

Ana gives him a playful side-eye, keeping her voice low while he leans in to hear her. "I guess when a feller ain't getting any from a lady he's gotta find other ways to compensate for that loss of power." John stifles a snort.

"You two got something to say?" Micah asks in a deadpan tone.

John and Ana exchange a glance before glaring at the entitled man. She steps forward with a hand on her hip. "I've always got something to say to you, Micah, but my mama taught me to keep my mouth shut when I ain't got nothing nice to say."

Micah slithers closer to her, irritated from his authority being challenged by a woman. "You better watch that pretty mouth of yours before I shut it."

Ana doesn't back away, the gang is in the background watching with growing astonishment. Dutch isn't saying anything because he simply wants to know what's going to be said. His eyebrows are raised at his lover with intrigue. She huffs through her nostrils, keeping her voice composed despite the threatening words leaving her mouth. "What you gonna do, hit me? Go ahead but I've gotta warn you I'm not all bark, I can bite just as well."

"Enough of this shit! You ain't nothing but a jealous little girl." Micah makes the first move, planting a hand on her chest and nudging her with force. Ana fights back wildly, smacking him in the face. He groans quietly at the sting it leaves on his cheek. John pulls back Ana while Dutch stands in Micah's way, stopping him from charging at the girl. She attempts to wrestle her way out of John's arms, unaware he's the one holding her.

"I'm tired of you two being at each other's throats. This feud you've got going on is over, there ain't no space for hatred in this family. You hear me?" Dutch looks to his left and right, expecting an answer that will satisfy his command.

Micah nods his head, fabricating obedience towards his boss. "That's fine by me, but you've gotta talk to the lady, she's the one who's all fired up."

Ana laughs, ridiculing him since she saw straight through his act. "He's a goddamn liar, Dutch. Only God knows how long he's been screwing this gang, and he's gonna keep on doing it unless you open your eyes."

Something inside of Dutch wanted to believe her, to embrace her accusations and forget this ever happened. Maybe it would be easier that way, but loyalty matters more than anything. To him, there wasn't any tangible reason for Micah to be betraying the gang, it had to be someone else.

"You've already made your suspicions known, Ana. Get yourself cooled off cause we got work to do."

She stomps off with no destination in mind, her hands trembling from the adrenaline. She wanted to kill Micah at that moment, to watch the worthless life drain from his eyes while blood painted his face. The thick stream of blood would decorate the ground like drops of water falling from a soaked head of hair.

The next day…

I wouldn't have guessed that when Dutch said work, he meant blowing up some huge ass bridge. Bill and Arthur stole a whole wagon full of dynamite to get the job done, now it was up to me, Arthur and John to make sure the thing gets destroyed. I can't see any benefit from doing this, it'll only make the law's job easier. Dutch's plans were starting to make less sense because of Micah's influence, I wish Hosea was feeling better, he would've shut this idea down in seconds. Who knows, maybe the whole concept of lighting a fire to distract the Pinkertons would actually work out, it just feels chaotic right now.

I rode next to Arthur towards the spot we were told to meet John. The sunlight was so severe it made you squint. I look to my trusted friend, whose skin had become paler and eyes were bloodshot. He's definitely seen better days. "How you been?" I ask straightforwardly.

There's a moment of silence before he responds. "I'm still standing. Rains Fall gave me some herbs… I've been feeling better than I have in days. I think it's helping."

I sigh with a heavy load of relief. Lately, whenever I heard Arthur cough it made my heart clench. His illness was not easily beaten, but perhaps he'll be able to retire and live out his days quietly. It put me at ease to have hope. "You ain't got any idea how glad I am to hear that. I bet with some rest you'll be back to your old self in no time." Arthur's expression hasn't changed during our ride. If I know him as well as I think I do, he's got something on his mind. "Let me guess, you're thinking about how you'd go about solving the world's problems."

Finally, a small smile. There's nothing like an inside joke to cheer a friend up. "Did I ever tell you I had a son?" His smile fades. "He was a sweet boy, Isaac was his name. His mama was a pretty girl named Eliza. We met at a saloon in Kansas… a place called Dodge City. I ain't never seen a lady with such blonde hair. She had my heart in minutes."

There's pain in his voice, I know this story must have more to it. "What… what happened to them? If you don't mind me asking."

He holds in a breath, giving himself time to exhale. Arthur isn't an open man by nature, he's struggling to confide his past to me. "The gang moved on and I went back to see them once in a while. I couldn't be a real husband or father, but I took care of them. She wasn't much younger than you when she died, nineteen. The boy… he was almost two. Some bastards robbed and killed them all for ten dollars. That pain I felt… it hardened me, I guess."

I find it difficult to endure the empathy within me, I know that Arthur doesn't want to hear it. It makes sense now, the soft spot he has for Jack and Abigail, and why he never found companionship amongst the female members of the gang. He didn't want to risk bringing another child into this dangerous world. "Bad things happen to all of us, Arthur. You didn't let that tragedy ruin you, it speaks highly of your character."

"Don't you mistake resilience for goodness. I am a bad man, Ana, and I don't expect good things to happen to me." When he speaks, I want to shake the defensiveness out of him. He can't take a compliment without immediately rejecting it.

"There you go again, downplaying yourself. You're one of the best men I've known and you treat yourself like scum, it's a waste."

He rotates his neck to face me, his blue eyes gleaming like fresh water in the sun. "I'm the waste, huh? You've still got time to redeem yourself, yet you keep on choosing robbing and killing. You should run off and never look back, let John be a father and let Dutch learn his lesson."

My jaw stiffens at the thought of deserting the life I'd built with the gang, I'd have no one left without them. "What would you do?"

"I'd come with you unless you don't want no old gunslinger following you around." I instinctually look at him, shocked by his kind proposition. "I don't mean it like you and me are gonna ride off into the sunset. I was thinking you, me, Hosea… Sadie, maybe Charles, we go all the way up to Canada once this is done. When folks are taken care of, we'll need to put some space between us and them Pinkertons. What you think?"

It was a tempting offer, running off with people I trust. I wish I could say yes without any doubts; the mental image of Dutch and John prevents me from doing so. "Devotion, that's all that matters to me, Arthur. Still, I get what you have in mind… I'll think about it, I promise."

He nods reassuringly, trusting me to give his offer proper consideration, and I would. He calls to his horse, instructing it to stop, I do the same. "Arthur? Why'd you stop?" I ask.

"I thought I heard something…" he scans the forest, examining each spot with observant eyes. I look to him, waiting for further explanation.

"It was probably just a deer, let's keep go-"

There's an earth-shattering crack nearby, a tree smacks onto the ground not far from us. If we hadn't stopped it could've crushed us. I thought the noise was over until a bunch of Murfrees run at us from the shrubs, carrying rusty knives and machetes. Arthur and I draw our pistols from their holsters, shooting the vicious men who are mad with a lust for blood. With our guns, it doesn't take long to kill them. It seems like they planned to ambush us after the incident at Beaver Hallow.

Arthur and I look at one another, checking for wounds. "What a pleasant surprise," I mutter, sounding bored.

He chuckles hoarsely. "Uh-huh. Look, why don't you just head into town and run some errands for the gang? John and I can handle this fine."

"Sure, why not. See you back at camp, Morgan." We wave goodbye, heading in opposite directions.

…

It's been a while since I spent time alone in a city. Thankfully it's been a while since the bank robbery in Saint Denis, meaning I should be safe enough. The streets were dreary and active as always. Men selling overpriced books, women protesting for their rights and beggars begging. Nothing changes in places like this, it just gets worse. Civilisation strips man of authenticity and passion. It leaves only hunger for needlessly extravagant lifestyles.

I decided to practice some self-care before picking up hunting supplies for Charles and soap for Miss Grimshaw. I took a bath, got a haircut and bought myself a new navy blouse with black lace detailing on the collar and front.

My time in town was undisturbed and normal. I was thinking about buying John a new hat when I spot a row of bounty posters smeared carelessly against a cement wall. I start reading each of the off-white papers quickly.

 _The Van der Linde Gang is wanted for repeated counts of murder, destruction of private and public properties, armed robbery of over $200,000 and countless assaults against citizens of Lemoyne, New Hanover and West Elizabeth. Their members' bounties are listed below._

 _Dutch van der Linde, $10,000_

 _Hosea Matthews, $9,000_

 _Arthur Morgan, $8,500_

 _Anastasia Fetcher, $6,000_

The prices keep on going but I can't bear to read them. I tear down the poster with my face on it, the paper wrinkling at my grip. They've drawn me so bitterly, I look unforgiving and proud. They've darkened my eyes and lips, revealing cleavage in the portrait to gain interest from bounty hunters. It's rare to find a bounty poster with a woman on it, so they made me more appealing to catch.

I suspect Milton wasn't pleased when I escaped, this must be some sort of payback. I can't fathom how I would've earned this bounty on my own, unless Micah has been feeding them info about my role in the gang, which hasn't been a small one.

You'd think a price this high on my head would feel like a badge of honour, especially at my age. It's more like a gigantic red target on my back.

A/N: Hi guys, sorry this took forever! I'm really trying to work on my writing since I feel like it hasn't been as good lately. Not sure why I feel like that lol, I just want my readers to be invested and entertained throughout every chapter. What do you guys think about Arthur's proposition? Would you go with him if you were Ana?

I'm also looking for some one-on-one insight on a potential plot point for the epilogue of my fic. Please let me know if you'd like to hear my idea for Ana's future because I want to hear a reader's thoughts on this! If you are interested there may be a minor spoiler involved, nothing huge though, I swear. (For anyone who doesn't want any spoilers, don't worry this won't be something I reveal beforehand in an A/N)

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	23. Chapter 23

A few days later…

The atmosphere at camp was changing. There was an unspoken tension articulated through silent glares and segregated conversations. The divide Micah caused was sturdy as a brick wall, and Ana was sitting on top, reluctant to plant her feet on either side. Arthur and John questioned Dutch at every opportunity. With Hosea's health at a low point, there was no one to ease the escalating bickering. Ana found it all irritating. Why couldn't Dutch see Micah for what he is? And why couldn't John know when to lay off Dutch? The men butting heads emphasized their immaturity. It made it almost impossible to maintain stability in her relationships with them. That was clear when they nearly started fighting over her the other night. She replayed the incident in her head while sitting by a crackling fire during a cool evening.

…

Ana sat close to Dutch on his thin mattress. Her left leg resting on his lap while his thumb dug into her calf, massaging a muscle that was sore from hunting.

"You ever think about marriage?" she asked, curiously tilting her head.

Dutch sighed through his nostrils. "With Annabelle I sure did. We was planning to marry for some months before she died. I ain't given it much thought since then, why you asking?" He looked down at her patiently. She'd grown to love how he never demanded an answer from her unless it was urgent.

"Sometimes I wonder how dull my life would be if I married that boy back in Valentine. I'd make one terrible wife, don't you think?" She laughed softly at the imaginary life playing in her head. Cooking, cleaning, serving an unworthy man and eventually watching over the brats she'd birthed. It amused her to realize some women long for such a life. It pained her to know others were trapped in that life while longing for freedom.

Dutch smirked at the thought of her wild side being tamed by domestic bliss. "I doubt that. Marriage can be liberating, I think."

Ana straightens her posture, intrigued by his comment. "Liberating? How so?"

"There's nothing purer in this world than love. It's one of the few things men haven't devoured yet. When a man opens his heart to it because that's what he wants, it frees him. A marriage without love, now that's a prison."

She nodded gently, wanting to understand the way his mind works. His wisdom made her feel incompetent at times.

"Maybe you're right. Hell, I don't know much about love…" her voice faded as she slid her leg from his grasp. Her feet dangled in the air, merely an inch from the ground.

Dutch shifted his body so he was facing her straight on. His foot was tucked under his knee and his sizable hands were planted on his thighs. He looked like a different person to Ana. His brown eyes had softened, leaving him naked with vulnerability.

"You didn't say how you felt when I told you I love you."

His words pinched her heart. A knot of guilt was growing in her chest. She'd been denying it for so long. The consequences of that restraint were unbearable heavy.

"I… I thought, I don't know what I thought, Dutch. I cannot deny that I care for you, but we said this wasn't about love. And what about John?"

Dutch sighed heavily, his shoulders slouching slightly. He was growing weary from the gang's situation. Competing with John felt like another never-ending battle, one he was tired of fighting. Sometimes he wondered if his efforts were being wasted on a woman who didn't know how to love.

"Forget about him, he's got a family. I once warned you that a time would come when I don't want no one but you. I'm here and I'm telling you there's no one else." He reached for her face, his fingertips grazing her rosy cheek. She felt an impulse to give in, to say yes, to complete the puzzle of their love story, but a certain man with a distinct scar and a boyish smile held her back.

"Let me think about it, alright? I promise I will." Dutch nodded in response, pleased at how she didn't immediately reject his request. Her promise created hope for their future.

She leaned in, craving the sensation of his lips against her own. The kiss was slow, it brought on a feeling of peace. They'd kissed hundreds of times by now, but it never failed to enchant her. They separated when footsteps were heard approaching the tent.

"Ana? You in there?" John asked uncomfortably. Ana had completely forgotten they'd agreed to meet by the river earlier that day. He'd been complaining that Dutch had been occupying the majority of her time.

Dutch's expression was visibly stern. His scowl alone was threatening to anyone with half a brain. Ana was about to excuse herself when he stomped towards the entrance of his tent, pushing back the cloth. He kept his arm up so no one could get in or out.

"Looks like I forgot to teach you manners, son. She's with me, if she wanted to be with you, she would be, am I wrong?"

John looked past Dutch at Ana, she moved towards the men, speaking with caution. "Easy now boys. Let's keep things civil. I'm gonna head out anyways, Dutch, it's late."

Dutch mocked her with a menacing chuckle. "Late? When has that ever stopped you from staying with me, darling?"

John took a bold step forward. An obvious challenge. Their body heat practically thickened the air. Ana couldn't bear the silent stare that seemed to last an eternity, though it was only a few seconds.

"The both of you are acting like fools. I'm leaving." She shoved Dutch and John out of her way, breaking the anger boiling inside of them. They were both smart enough to realize that a fight wouldn't win Ana's affection. In fact, it'd likely have the complete opposite effect. Her passion for violence didn't apply to those she cared for.

…

A stifled, quiet groan snaps her back to reality. Arthur was having what appeared to be a nightmare in his cot. It was strange to see such an unstoppable man sleeping this early, but Ana had been the one who commanded he rested. She insisted his road to recovery wouldn't be possible without plenty of rest. Arthur had resisted at first, but she was just too persistent, like a mother nagging her child to dress for the cold weather. To him. it seemed selfish to rest with everything going on, despite this thought, he drifted off minutes after laying down.

Ana decided to put an end to whatever was disrupting his peaceful slumber. She sat on the edge of his bed, placing a hand on his upper arm. His blue eyes, now less bloodshot than earlier, looked at her groggily.

"Uh… wha-… what time is it? What's wrong?" he asked with a growl in his voice. He reached for his canteen to treat his throat which felt like sandpaper.

"Sorry, you was having some sort of nightmare. Dutch mentioned he wanted to speak with us once you're up anyhow. So get a move on mister." She stood up quickly, offering her hand to Arthur, who was trying to recall what he dreamt of. It was gone, like a moment forgotten without realizing.

"Alright, alright, give me a second lady." He let out a prolonged sigh and got up with her help. Ana went to let go, but he refused to release her hand. She looked at him questioningly. "Ana, you been giving me shit 'bout not resting, but have you even gotten a proper sleep in the past week? Or month?"

Ana felt stunned by Arthur's touch. She assumed he meant it as an act of friendship, it was the kind of pure affection she wasn't accustomed to. "I sleep… sometimes. I guess this place ain't exactly what I'd call comfortable. Don't you go worrying about me, let's go."

Still, he didn't let go. Ana tugged at their conjoined hands half-heartedly. She flashed him a smile to see if he was goofing around, he stared at her with an unreadable expression.

"Arthur?" she asked. He dropped her hand suddenly, as if her voice had broken him out of a trance.

"Have you given any thought to my offer?" Arthur questioned, changing the subject.

Ana had indeed considered what he proposed to her not long ago. Living an honest life with her friends far away from here, without Dutch or John. It was certainly safer than robbing, killing and sleeping with two men from the same gang. She contained a smile at how twisted her life sounded when she put it that way.

"I think it could be real good. I'd still like to stick around for a while longer. I ain't giving up on this family yet. Dutch has got some plans underway… something 'bout keeping the law busy by helping out those Indian folks. And getting more money, of course."

Arthur parts his lips to speak, but Dutch of all people interrupts him. His hair is glistening from a fresh application of pomade.

"The hell is taking you two so long? Colm O'Driscoll is hanging today and I thought we might go admire the sight of the bastard dying."

Ana and Dutch exchange a smirk. She'd been longing for revenge on Colm ever since he kidnapped herself and Arthur. She never spoke of what happened to her. The memories were unbearable.

"Sounds like a show that I ain't willing to miss. Come on boys, and Sadie will tag along too, I'm sure." She motioned for them to follow her while heading towards her horse. She was practically giddy with cruel excitement.

…

"Remind me why I'm wearing this ugly thing again?" I asked to no one in particular as we walked down an alleyway towards Colm in Saint Denis. Dutch had ordered us to disguise ourselves so no one recognizes us during the hanging. I'd prefer the cop uniforms he and Arthur have on to these fancy gowns Sadie and I got stuck with.

Sadie snorted at my question. "They'd probably stone us to death if we lingered in our normal clothes. A lady wearing pants is unnatural according to… the bible? Some asshole who thinks he knows best? Hell, they might as well be the same person."

I smile at her. Our minds think alike often. I've begun to see her as an older sister, someone who I could trust to have my back, and I would have hers.

"Ladies… might I say, being fancy women of Saint Denis suits you both." Arthur said from behind us, teasing us in a genuine manner.

"I'd dress up like a queen if it meant seeing that son of a bitch swing." Sadie had so much raw anger in her voice. She turned her hands into fists.

"Colm hung us up… nearly butchered Arthur, did things to me that will haunt me for years… but that don't mean I'm comfortable in this corset." I said, leaving out the details of my torture. I could see Dutch tense his shoulders.

"You two made it outta that predicament, as I remember. My husband weren't so lucky." Sadie said, looking forward. I frowned, feeling sympathy for her. You could tell how fiercely she loved that man. I doubt she'll ever truly love again.

"You lost your husband. I lost Annabelle, nearly lost Anastasia. That poor boy Kieran. We've all lost something because of Colm. And that is why we will shepherd him to eternity." Dutch said from up front. I caught up to him, walking by his side.

"Thank you for this. I'll rest better knowing he's gone." I lowered my voice, keeping our conversation relatively private.

"Don't you go thanking me yet my darling," he paused, turning back to Sadie and Arthur. "Now keep those fingers off the triggers because we'll need cool heads and calm dispositions to see this through."

"Practice what you preach, brother," Arthur commented. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Couldn't he just keep that thought to himself?

I look back at Arthur, shaking my head lightly. He ignores my look of disapproval.

"Whatever do you mean?" Dutch asked with attitude.

"You're really gonna keep your cool? When you seem to lose it oh so often now…"

I speak up before it goes any further. "Quit it, both of you. We got a job to do, talking ain't gonna get it done. Let's go watch ourselves a hanging."

We quietly join the crowd of the public, who are eagerly awaiting an execution. Seems like civilized folk enjoy violence as much as any other cowboy. Funny how that works.

Dutch scans the area. He stares at a pair of drunk fools. "Those are Colm's boys… they're pointing at something. We better go take a look." He turned to Sadie and me with a stern look on his face. He points his finger to the ground. "Stay here." He's about to move but instead locks eyes with me. "Save those heroics of yours for later. You hear me, Miss Fetcher?"

I plant a hand on my hip. "Whatever you say, officer." Dutch suppresses a smirk then leaves with Arthur. Sadie and I move deeper into the crowd, blending in as rich girls with nothing better to do. We say nothing. I keep my eye on the crowd. There's a couple of Colm's boys lurking nearby, probably his last line of defence if the sniper misses the shot.

We wait about fifteen minutes until the sheriff and executioner arrive. The sheriff blabs on about savagery and justice, the same old excuse they use for every other hanging. I look back for a moment, spotting Arthur on the rooftop. A smile creeps onto my face. Dutch joins us with a knife in his hand. I know exactly what to do.

I press a knife against the neck of an O'Driscoll who I was standing behind. He gasps for air as if I was about to choke him in broad daylight. I snicker quietly.

"Don't you do anything stupid boy," I whisper into his ear.

I can see Colm starting to panic. He looks to his men, clinging onto the hope that he'll escape death. He hyperventilates, I swear I can see tears in his eyes. His body squirms while he hangs, the crowd collectively gasps.

"Now you know how it feels to watch somebody you love die… you ruined my life!" I glare at Sadie, thinking I can stop her from doing whatever she's about to do. She slits the throat of the O'Driscoll she had in her arms, then shooting the other two while cursing at them.

Dutch and I drag her away, shooting lawmen and O'Driscolls at the same time. We're completely outnumbered. "Fucking hell… Arthur, if you can hear me, shoot these bastards!" I shout in his direction while I take cover with Sadie and Dutch. We keep our heads down while Arthur snipes our attackers. I poke my head out, firing rapidly.

Once the gunfire calms down we sprint for the wagon. I jump in the back, waving to Arthur as a signal to get going. Dutch whips the horses to get us moving.

"Well, we got him." Dutch mumbles.

My eyes burn into the back of Sadie's skull. She risked our lives for vengeance. "I hope you're happy Sadie. You got what you wanted, right? Could've got us killed, but that doesn't matter to you, does it?"

She looks back at me, a fire in her eyes. "What? You going soft? And here I was thinking violence was your speciality."

I turn my head away from her, refusing her challenge. "Them Pinkertons will catch word 'bout this. Who else would wanna see Colm dead more than us?"

My question is met with silence. I bury my head into my hands, wiping the sweat off my skin. Killing after killing, bullet after bullet, when does it end? Probably not until the day I die.

The next day…

Sunlight burned through the trees, blinding me when it caught my eye. It was a hot summer day in late August. If you looked carefully, you could see some of the leaves starting to change colours. I've always preferred autumn. I pause, my thoughts switching focus suddenly. If I've got the dates right, I must be twenty-one by now. The ends of my lips curve into a subtle smile. I often forget how young I truly am.

"What you smiling about?" asks a raspy voice. I lift my gaze. John. He's in a tightfitting black and white striped shirt. His chest is slightly exposed. I stop my mouth from opening at the sight of him.

"Can't a girl just smile without a reason?" I respond, pushing myself up from a chair. John hands me one of the two beers he was holding. I take a large gulp, thirsty from the heat. I toss the bottle on the ground once I'm done.

"There ain't been much smiling going on these days, that's all." He frowns slightly. I shove him playfully.

"With an attitude like that, we might as well just grimace all day. What's on your mind Marston?" I ask, stopping my teasing when I see how troubled he seems. He says nothing, instead nodding to a more private spot just outside of camp. I follow him there, we lean against the wide trunk of a tree. I cross my arms while John stares at the ground, fiddling with his belt buckle.

"Talk to me," I say bluntly.

"It's just that… Arthur keeps telling me I gotta leave and never look back. He wants me to take Abigail and the boy, to watch over them instead of following Dutch."

I pause. The harsh reality is here and it's time to face it. "You need to be ready when the time comes, John. You can't let nothing hold you back, you hear me?"

He looks at me, his brown eyes filled with uncertainty. "What about you and me? And this family? It feels… it feels like I'm betraying everyone."

"It ain't like that. With them Pinkertons on our ass and Micah doing whatever he's doing, no one is safe. You can't risk your family's lives. They need you. I'll be just fine, and you know that." I reach for his hand, our fingers intertwine. We lean in closer, our hot breath mixing.

"God, I wish I could take you away from this life, be the man you need… promise me, when the time comes, it won't be the last time I see that pretty face of yours."

I give him a peck on the lips, whispering a comforting promise that I'm not entirely sure I can keep, but I truly hope I can. "I'm sure we'll cross paths. It's a small world."

We separate, returning to our chores. I mindlessly scrub dirt out of female undergarments, distracting myself from a mind full of thoughts.

A shout pulls me back to reality. "Hold up! Who's there?!" asks Bill rather aggressively. He must not recognize whoever it is. I look to the edge of camp, squinting my eyes at a finely dressed woman.

"Um… my name is Mary… I don't mean to cause a disturbance. I'm just looking for a friend of mine. Arthur Morgan. Is he here?"

Could that be the Mary Arthur almost married? How the hell did she find us? I move closer, taking a better look at her. Beautiful tanned skin, dark brown hair, high cheekbones, pink lips and cheeks. She reeks of money. I'm surprised she managed to get here without being robbed.

Arthur walks with haste towards her, guiding the small woman away from camp as if he wanted to hide her from us, or hide us from her. I cannot contain my curiosity. I swiftly move behind a tent, just close enough so I can hear them. Everyone is staring in their direction.

"I followed some of the…" Mary paused uncomfortably, "girls from your gang. I'm sorry. I just had to see you."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Why? You keep on saying I'll never change. What do you want from me, Mary?"

"Run away with me, Arthur, today. We could get married, have a life together. Isn't that better than this sad existence you can't seem to let go of?"

Another pause. Arthur must be thinking. "No. I can't. There's folk I need to take care of, Mary. And… and I don't think I feel that way about you no more. Too much time has passed. You only want me when you've got no options left. That ain't fair to you or me."

"Oh, Arthur… if only you were a better man, we could've been so happy."

Mary walked away. She got on her horse and rode, clearly desperate to put some distance between herself and Arthur. She's not what I expected. A pretty face, that's for sure, but demeaning and manipulative are traits I see so clearly. It's like she loves Arthur when it's convenient. I'm glad he's over her.

Arthur sighed once more, moving slowly back to camp. I watched as he dismissed everyone's comments and questions. He sat by the fire, sipping on water from his canteen. For the first time since I met Arthur, I begin to notice how handsome he is. Maybe it's those piercing blue eyes, his short dirty blonde hair, the scruff on his jawline, or his large size. It's strange how more women don't flock to him. Perhaps they do and I just missed the signs. I shake the observations out of my mind. I swear I have the hormones of a teenage boy some days.

He nods at me when I walk towards my tiny tent. I force a smile.

It took me hours to fall asleep that night.

A/N: Hi guys! I'm finally back with another update. I'm sorry for disappearing for so long but I had some personal stuff going on, writing became so hard to focus on. But I'm planning to post updates more often now and finally get this story wrapped up. So… just so everyone's clear, Arthur and Ana are NOT going to be a serious thing. They might just be sort of attracted to each other… hehe. Please tell me your predictions and opinions! I miss hearing from my readers.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	24. Chapter 24

"This is dumb, Dutch. Why we gettin' ourselves involved in these folk's problems? Don't get me wrong, they're good people, but it's a complicated situation," Arthur said to Dutch, who was looking into a box of dynamite like he was forgetting something. He was only partially paying attention to what Arthur was saying.

For the first time in a long time, I found myself feeling rather neutral on a matter. It's odd, considering I almost always have an opinion. Mama always used to say my mouth would get me killed some day. She was probably right.

Dutch wanted us to meet him on a cliff overlooking the road. He gave us no details, only sent word for us to be here late this morning. He quickly explained we were ambushing some men from the army alongside the Indians, and more importantly, Eagle Flies, the last son of Rains Fall. It's essentially a shakedown, nobody needs to die. Dutch wants to keep the law's eye off of us for once. Hell, who knows, maybe it could work. These people deserve better than how they've been treated by this supposedly great country.

"Come on Arthur. It ain't like that. Think about it, it's mutually beneficial to draw attention to one problem and a veil over another. Help me carry this dynamite, would you?" Dutch dropped the crate into Arthur's hands. I grabbed the wire without being asked to and follow them towards the road.

Arthur gave me an annoyed look which I didn't return. He was waiting for me to back him up. "Miss Fetcher with nothing to say? I never thought I'd see such a day," Arthur mumbled sarcastically. Dutch let out a low chuckle.

"You have been quieter than usual," Dutch added, looking for an explanation.

I huffed. "The way I see it, this won't get us in more trouble with the law. That's where my priority is at. Dutch's plan could actually work if we're careful."

They nodded, respecting my opinion. Most women these days don't get asked for their thoughts on anything besides fashion trends and pie recipes. Another reason why I've grown to love the outlaw life.

"How high is your bounty, Ana?" Arthur asked suddenly.

I swallowed, my mind flashing back to the wanted poster that I found in Saint Denis. I'd heard it'd gone up by a thousand since then. It must be at least seven thousand by now. There's never been more than fifty dollars on my head since I joined the Van der Linde Gang. I used to make my living on petty robberies after Mama died. The law didn't bother me or pursue such minor crimes. I never mentioned the poster to Dutch or even Arthur. I know Micah has something to do with it, but Dutch will never buy it. I still need real evidence against the rat, which seems impossible to find.

"Seven thousand," I finally answered, trying not to sound panicked. Dutch and Arthur whipped their heads in my direction.

"Shit… you must've pissed them Pinkertons off," said Dutch while tensing his eyebrows.

We finally reach the road. I watch for oncoming travellers while they plant the dynamite. I pause before continuing our conversation.

"Milton wants me dead, that's all. I got lucky during the ambush and he feels like he's gotta rectify that," I said, picturing his scarred, red cheeks. I hope I never have to set eyes on him again unless I'm watching him die. Maybe I'll just kill the weasel myself.

"What a slimy bastard. Wish we killed him that day," Arthur said. I nodded to myself. I don't remember much about what happened during the ambush. The girls back at camp just kept saying Arthur saved me and everyone else. I bet that was a real nice sight.

Once the bombs are planted, Eagle Flies shouts to us from the cliff's edge. "I think that should do it. Hurry up and get back here!"

We lightly jog up the steep hill. My thighs feel a bit wobbly once we reach the top. Eagle Flies motions for us to get in position. "We saw some movement in the distance… there's a lot more of them than we were expecting." I look over to the young man who seemed agitated. Strangely, I see him as a boy though he can't be more than a year or two younger than me.

"Easy now, friend. Stay focused… and loosen up. It don't hurt to enjoy what you're doing," I said, smiling at the fond memories I have of jobs that went well. Nothing beats the one back in Valentine with Karen, Arthur, Bill and Lenny.

Arthur sent me a disappointed look for encouraging such behaviour. I probably shouldn't romanticise this life, there's more bad than good when you're a gunslinger.

"You sure you wanna man that plunger, Arthur?" asked Dutch. Does he think Arthur would purposely not set off the bombs?

"I'm fine," grumbled Arthur, rolling his eyes.

We stayed silent as the patrol got closer to the dynamite. I pulled up my dark red bandana. Arthur set off the charges when Eagle Flies signalled him. Trees cracked like thunder before collapsing, blocking the path. Their horses were spooked, a few of them got kicked off their saddles. Before the dust settled, we stood up, pointing our guns at the men dressed in uniforms.

"You're surrounded, nobody needs to get hurt. We're tired of the humiliation, it ends today. Put down your guns!" Eagle Flies yelled. The men don't look frightened of us which makes me feel unsettled.

"You are making a mistake, boy," said an unknown soldier with a southern accent.

"You're the one making a mistake. Hands up, soldier… take some humiliation then leave these fine folks alone," said Dutch. Hopefully the soldiers find him to be more intimidating than a boy.

"Who the hell are you?" the same soldier asked.

"A concerned citizen," Dutch responded.

These men aren't going to back down. A firefight won't end well. I'm about to express my concerns when a bullet whizzes right past my shoulder. Dutch and the others fire back in an instant.

"My father won't be happy about this!" Eagle Flies shouted above the gunfire.

"They fired first, son," Dutch retorted.

I shoot back. My aim isn't as sharp today, most of my bullets are missing or hitting shoulders. I bite my lip, feeling envious of Arthur's headshot streak. He's on fire today. I groan, feeling frustrated at the sight of another oncoming patrol. It looks like we've got a hard fight on our hands. I throw my repeater to the ground and pull out my pistol. I hardly miss with this thing.

I redirect my aim to enemies making their way up the hill. Their bodies collapse each time I pull the trigger. Satisfaction runs through my veins. My blood pumps quickly from the adrenaline. It's a rush that I cannot replace.

"You fools, this is the fucking army! What'd you expect?" Arthur asks accusingly, pointing a finger at Dutch while he runs by. Dutch snaps back at him but I can't hear a thing since he's too far.

A young soldier with blonde hair that shimmers with grease comes at me with the sharp end of his rifle. I throw myself to the ground before he sticks me right in the stomach. He grunts like a caveman who is incapable of using his words. I kick his ankle with all the strength I have in my right leg. He stumbles to the ground, I pin him down before he gets up. He stares into the barrel of my silver pistol.

"Get off me, you dumb whore!" He spits in my face.

I scowl down at the teenager who probably can't grow a beard yet. "What'd you call me?" I ask.

"Dumb whor-" my gun fires before he finishes. The blood paints my face and fogs my vision. I push myself up, following Dutch down the hill. Arthur runs next to me.

"All of you, take what you can, then we'll get out!" Dutch instructed. We start looting the stiff corpses. Once you see enough dead bodies, their faces start to all look the same. It's unnerving.

"This is crazy, we need to get out of here right now," Arthur said while following orders.

"They could have information on them that'll help our cause," responded Eagle Flies.

I kept quiet, digging through pockets and satchels. Not much besides shiny watches and wedding rings. One feller had a photo of his family which made my throat clench. It's easy to forget the enemy has a life.

Arthur and Dutch discussed something I couldn't focus on. My mind is elsewhere today, I can't quite figure out why. Maybe sleep deprivation is starting to take its toll. Suddenly, a small explosion went off on the road, I staggered away from the fire, grabbing onto Arthur for balance. The army blew their obnoxious whistles while charging at us from the other side of the road. We burst into a sprint to find cover.

"Shit! Everyone keep your heads down! We're gonna get out of this," Dutch exclaimed stressfully. The soldiers outnumber us significantly. Each time I shoot one another takes his place. Some annoying military tune plays from a nearby fort. They're sending more troops after us. This can't be good, we'll be killed or arrested if we don't run right now. I'm done keeping my thoughts to myself.

"Eagle Flies take your men and ride hard! We need to split up before they blow a fucking hole in the ground!" I call out at the top of my voice. Dutch looks at me funny but follows nonetheless. I jump on the back of Dutch's albino steed since mine has fled from all the commotion. It's much faster than I'm used to, so I hold onto Dutch's side with one hand.

We stop at the entrance of a tight path. "Let's dismount here. We can't fit the horses through this path. We can try and lose 'em down here," Dutch said. I ignore my burning thighs and run like my life depends on it, which it does.

The army is too fast, men fire at us from above. We shoot as many as we can and keep on running. My heart is beating too fast, my body is too sore, I don't see how we can outrun death for much longer. I keep on shooting, but my efforts are pointless, there are not enough bullets to kill an army in one gun. The path grows narrower as we approach what sounds like a river. I'm the first to reach the broken bridge. We've hit a dead end. I feel like nothing more than a scared little girl as I process our inevitable deaths. I don't want to die, not yet, not when I have so much to live for.

"Dutch? Arthur? There's… there's nothing. What are we gonna… Dutch think of something, please! This can't be it!" I plead with warm tears rolling down my bloodstained face. I hold onto Dutch's shoulders while he scans the area with wide eyes.

"There ain't nothing… this is it," Arthur said, sounding defeated.

"Well, I…" Dutch looked down at me, sliding his sweaty hand onto my lower back, "Hush now, my dear girl. I've got you. Do you hear me? Have faith in me."

I held him close for as long as possible. "I hear you, Dutch," I lower my voice to a hushed whisper only he can hear, "I love you."

"I love you too." His voice was little more than a murmur.

I reluctantly release him when a dozen soldiers block our only escape.

"Put your damn hands up!" growled a man who must be their captain. I mentally count to ten to stop my hyperventilating. Panic won't keep me alive. I focus on the soothing sound of water flowing when I realize we have one last option. The river. Even if we die from the jump it's better than being hung.

"Follow my lead, I got a plan, a good one," Dutch said under his breath. We slowly begin raising our hands and holstering our weapons.

"You keep them hands up and come here," said the captain.

"We, uh… can't do that," Dutch said as we started backing up towards the ledge. "Your men… those men they killed, they were good men. You're fighting nature, captain."

"Get over here or we'll shoot!"

"Ask my friend here," he nodded to Arthur before continuing, "my whole life I tried to fight change. It's a waste… I see that now. It's a waste," Dutch added.

I didn't recognize my own voice when the words rolled off my tongue. "You can't fight nature, you can't fight change… it's like fighting gravity."

Arthur and Dutch got my message, we jumped off the cliff as if on cue. The wind hit my skin fiercely and my hair fell out of a bun. The sensation of freefalling made my stomach turn. Our bodies crashed into the water within seconds. I swam up to the surface, gasping for air as the current pushed me down the river. I wasn't strong enough to resist where it took me, I nearly went face first into a rock. Arthur and Dutch were nowhere to be seen.

"Come on Ana, take my hand! Don't you dare give up!" I heard Dutch say from the waterside, I spotted him and Arthur both ready to grab me. My weakness didn't allow me to swim towards land, but I was just able to reach Dutch's hand. He dragged me onto the ground. I regurgitated the water I swallowed. I felt a hand rubbing my back as I nearly coughed my lungs out.

"We're okay, you're okay," Dutch said quietly.

"What a goddamn mess," Arthur mumbled.

"A mess is better than dead… you owe me a whiskey, Dutch," I said with a raspy voice. We chuckled, making light of a shitty situation. I sat up, astonished at the chaos we just escaped.

I turned my gaze to Dutch, who was completely soaked like me. The water stripped his hair of pomade. I peel off the blazer I was wearing, leaving me in a white shirt. I hate the feeling of wet clothes.

"Eagle Flies must've been taken," Arthur said, sounding guilty.

Dutch began to stand up, appearing flustered. "Well, we can't go right now, but… Charles. We'll send him, maybe he can get the boy out quietly. We gotta split up, Ana you come with me. Arthur, rest up, get yourself some decent food and a bath, son."

I squeezed Arthur's shoulder before taking Dutch's hand and getting off my butt. My system was begging for some serious shuteye. His loyal steed had already managed to find us without a whistle. I mounted the horse, leaning my forehead on Dutch's back.

"Thank you for having my back there, darling. Things ain't been easy, having you on my side again, it keeps me sane," Dutch said, a familiar warmth present in his tone. He makes me feel so safe even when I'm surrounded by danger.

"I've got faith in you, like always. All my doubts lay with Micah."

A tense pause settles like snow landing during a blizzard. I shut my eyes, praying for a different response than the one I've become accustomed to.

"Maybe I was wrong to trust Micah as quickly as I did. By that standard, the same could be said about you." Dutch was calm despite such a blatant insult being directed at me.

I exhale to sort out my thoughts before answering. "It ain't just me who don't trust Micah. Arthur, John, Hosea, Charles … Sean didn't when he was alive. These are your brothers were talking about. If my word isn't enough, at least hear them out. You owe them that, they gave you all they had to give for so many years, Dutch."

You could almost hear Dutch thinking when he paused once more. "I… I never was good at being wrong, Ana. I'll try to listen, though I can't promise nothing. Our plan stays the same. We light a fire to distract the law, one last score, then we disappear. We're going to make it."

I knew then that Dutch would make it. He always did, even if others were left behind. Folks back at camp would be safer if they walked away, but I decided against expressing this to him. At least for now.

I drifted off during our ride back to camp, even during my sleepy state, I didn't let go of Dutch.

…

I woke up early the next morning by the fire. Dutch must've left me here to dry off somewhere warm. My head was pounding and my body was shivering, I must've caught the flu. It explains why I felt so lethargic yesterday. The camp is quiet besides the sound of Uncle snoring and talking in his sleep. I decided to check on Hosea who's been resting in his tent since his sickness got worse. No one knows what he's got, and he refuses to see a doctor. I worry that his death would break Dutch's heart. Men can't think straight with a broken heart.

Hosea has his nose buried in a book when I quietly enter his tent. He drops it on his chest and smiles weakly at me. "Ana, what you doing up?"

I pull up a stool beside his cot. "I came to check on you. How you feeling?" I feel a bit foolish for asking a question he's probably heard nearly a hundred times by now.

Hosea sighs softly. "It's almost over for me. Don't you go making a fuss, I've been at this for a long time, too long, and I ain't scared of dying no more. It's better this way, surrounded by family, warm, comfortable. It beats getting my head blown off by that Agent Milton."

I press my lips together, wishing I could save him, but understanding and respecting his acceptance of death. It's admirable. "I'm glad you get to say your goodbyes, most folks don't get that chance…" I stop to think. This might be a good time to ask for advice from someone far more experienced than I. "Hosea, what should I do?"

"Now that's a pretty broad question, care to explain?" He sits up slightly, seeming intrigued. I pass him a nearby cup of water since his lips are chapped.

"I believe in Dutch, I do, I'd follow him almost anywhere. But Micah? I trust politicians more than that snake. I can't do this anymore, not with him around and Dutch would never forgive me if I did something to him." I stop myself from ranting, looking to Hosea for his thoughts.

"Arthur told me he was planning on getting folks outta here soon," Hosea sipped slowly, "look, I've known Dutch for a long, long time. He's got so much goodness in him, but he ain't been the same these days. He's become reckless and less empathetic. So my suggestion for you, Ana? Get out. Stay hidden for a couple years at the very least. I'm guessing you won't be able to stay away from the outlaw life forever. If you do go back, be smarter, do better, learn from our mistakes. You'd make one hell of a leader."

I bite my lip. What did I expect Hosea to say, to go run off with Dutch into the sunset? It seems like I was wrong about having to choose between them, at least that's the way it is today. John has a family who needs him more than I do, and Dutch is consumed by his pride, following him means Micah would kill me or get the law to arrest me. It pains me to accept this reality, but I cannot pretend anymore.

I squeeze Hosea's hand gently. "Thank you… for everything. Things are starting to make sense, even if it ain't what I hoped for, I'm thankful I can see clearly." I get up to leave, stopping in my tracks with a smile on my face. "You might be the smartest man I've ever known."

Hosea smiles back, his chin trembling. He says nothing, sending me off with a nod. The sun is rising when I walk back outside. I run my fingers through my hair and shut my eyes, sniffing the scent of nature awakening from its slumber. I feel a peculiar sense of peace wash over me like a gentle wave.

I've felt so many emotions during my time with the Van der Linde gang. Fear has been the most predominant. I was frightened by love and loss. It's always been a negative feeling to me. Now, it fuels my determination to begin a new chapter in my life. Everyone in this gang deserves the chance to change, even if that means refining how they rob and kill. Maybe Dutch isn't too far gone, maybe he'll see it my way eventually. I promise myself I won't leave this gang without attempting to stop Dutch from becoming the worst version of himself.

With a fresh outlook on my future, I walk with my shoulders held back towards where a pot of coffee waits for me. Caffeine is calling for me like a shout from the heavens. I spot Micah lingering by my destination. I continue, not letting his presence bother me. Nothing can make me angry right now, not even him.

"What's got you glowing little lady?" he asks with mockery in his voice.

I pour the dark brown liquid into a tin cup. "I can't help but light up when I set my eyes on you first thing in the morning," I say sarcastically.

He snickers, taking a single step towards me. "You know, I don't think you've ever said anything to me that wasn't some kind of insult."

A thought impulsively pops into my head. I tried getting Micah to admit his betrayal once, I failed miserably since my friendly acting was too obvious. What's the harm in trying out a subtler approach?

"Maybe you is right, I've been giving you shit for months," I say quietly like I'm embarrassed to admit it.

Micah perks up, smirking just a tiny bit. "Well, that's a start. You finally figure out that I ain't no rat?"

I allow silence to linger, building anticipation for my response. Micah will see through me if I'm too eager or pandering. "I really don't know what to think anymore, Micah. Dutch has proven himself a worthy leader, I think it's best for everyone if we trust him. A part of me did doubt his plans, but that part of me is gone now."

He places his hand onto my shoulder, I picture my flesh burning at his touch, though it turns out his hand feels like any other hand. He squeezes me firmly, I gulp down the impulse to gag. "I always knew you was smarter than cowpoke and that pretty boy Marston. You carry your weight, unlike most of these fools."

My next move requires an award-winning performance on my part. I place my hand onto Micah's and stare boldly into his eyes, my round, brown eyes always did make me look trustworthy. "I'm with ya'll. I hope we can trust each other, even if it takes some time."

A satisfied look creeps onto his face, the look that older gentlemen give young girls who walk the streets alone. His eyes are half-open, I can't look away or he'll see that I'm playing him. He's enjoying this too much, probably because he hasn't been with any of the girls here in months. He picks up my chin, swiping his calloused thumb across my skin. I freeze, I don't think I can handle much more of this physical contact.

"Dutch and John were lucky to have you…" he leans down to whisper in my ear, "I always liked my girls wild." His hot breath makes my skin crawl. Thankfully, he walks away without trying anything else. I couldn't be happier to have my personal space back, I feel pity for any girl who had to sleep with Micah Bell. I think I'd honestly rather die.

Most people are awake now, yawning and exchanging brief greetings. My feet keep on moving even though I'm not going anywhere. Micah will never admit that he's feeding information to the Pinkertons. I just have this gut feeling that getting on his good side is in my best interest. I look up, making accidental eye contact with Arthur, whose hair is slicked back. He intently walks to me; my smile dies when I notice how pissed off he looks. Without a word, he grabs me by the arm, pulling me to a tree by the front of camp.

"What the hell?!" I force my arm out of his grasp, my skin stings from how forcefully he held me.

"Why you actin' like such a goddamn fool? Cozying up to Micah, of all people… who's side are you on anyway?" Arthur jabs his finger into my chest, I swat it away.

I keep my voice low and steady. "Yours, you dumbass. If that snake thinks I'm on his side, then maybe, I don't know, maybe we'll catch him off-guard. I don't have a plan, Arthur, I'm improvising."

A breath sharply exits his lips, he backs down, pressing two fingers to his eyebrow. "Just… watch yourself, Micah ain't half as dumb as he looks."

"He ain't no genius either…" I look back at camp, people are glancing at us curiously. I ignore their nosiness. "I'm gonna leave with you when the time comes."

Arthur coughs into his fist, he sounds better. He clears his throat, spitting out some mucus. "Yeah? Good… I'm real glad."

"You know that cough don't sound nearly as bad as it did a few weeks ago," I say, containing my excitement. The relief I feel is overwhelming, I almost want to cry.

Arthur steps behind the tree trunk, I follow, no one can see us now. It's better that Micah doesn't spot us getting along. "It's cause of you. I wasn't gonna fight it, you know, but you made me. The medicine Rains Fall gave me is making a real difference, I might just make it."

I pick up Arthur's hand, holding it with reassurance and confidence. "Let's hope so."

A/N: Another chapter! I loved writing the scene with Dutch's monologue from RDR… you may have noticed I've been incorporating Ana into Dutch expressing his ideologies (this may or may not be my way of hinting a sequel, we'll see).

What'd you guys think about Ana trying to manipulate Micah? Seems pretty smart, or it could be dangerous, considering what's in store for the next few chapters.

Finally, Arthur and Ana. What do you picture them doing if they end up leaving together? Would they live normal lives? Start a new gang? Become bounty hunters with Sadie? Or become more than friends? If they both survive, there's a lot of different directions the story could go!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	25. Chapter 25

A few days later…

Dutch had insisted the gang needs to have a celebration before their last score. The train robbery was planned, though the details hadn't been shared yet. Money, that's all that mattered, how they got it didn't overly concern Dutch. Ana hadn't seen much of him since they nearly got caught by the army, he'd been spending a majority of his days with Hosea or Micah. His old friend had such little time left, she got why he wanted to be with him. Dutch lacked his usual charm while feeling burdened, he'd crawl into bed with her at night, pulling at her nightgown without speaking. Sex was like a coping mechanism he'd developed. Ana didn't mind, she figured it was helping to some extent. It was a distraction to her as well, one she couldn't resist.

Ana wore a light jacket over her blue dress since these parties tend to last till early the next day. The drinking had just started, but it wasn't exactly a lighthearted atmosphere. The gang was split into groups, John, Arthur, Sadie, and Charles sat by the main campfire. Micah, Dutch, Javier and Bill stood by Dutch's tent. Everyone else, including Ana, lingered on the outside, making small talk while drinking faster than usual. Ana thought once the booze was really flowing things would be less uncomfortable. She kept that in mind while chugging the second half of her beer.

"Easy on the drink, Ana. Don't wanna end up like Karen," Abigail commented sarcastically. Ana subtly laughed at her motherly concern, she'd always been kind to her even though John had prevented a real friendship from forming. They were both reasonable, jealousy wasn't something they indulged often.

"Drinking is the only thing that'll get me through tonight," Ana spoke under her breath. It irked her to think that this could be the last time everyone is together, and it's being wasted. A tipsy impulse caused her to undo her braid. She intently gazes at Uncle, who'd fallen asleep on a chair. She moves to him gracefully, nudging him with her foot.

"Huh? Why you gotta wake me up like that? If I don't sleep my lumbago will flare up again…" He pouted like a puppy.

Ana smiled politely at him. "Come on, Uncle, us ladies haven't been serenaded by that lovely voice of yours in weeks!"

He quickly observed the gathering audience. He had no chance to resist, Javier was ready with his guitar. The pair began playing a familiar tune.

 _Oh Molly, Oh Molly, it's for your sake alone._

 _I leave my old parents, my house and my home._

 _My love for you it has caused me to roam._

 _I'm a rabble-rouser and Dixie's my home._

The cliques were merging, the invisible wall had been temporarily broken down. Mary-Beth took Ana's arm, the women swayed and sang along. She'd always liked something about Mary-Beth, they were around the same age yet had very little in common. It made her feel like a real young lady to sing and dance with a friend. They clapped once the melody was over, Javier continued on to play background music.

Ana left to get another drink by Pearson's kitchen. Her pale skin brushed lightly against someone's tanned hand reaching for the same bottle. She looked up to see a friendly sight; scars, brown eyes, boyish smile.

"I had it first," John whispered playfully. She could smell whiskey on him, it made her head feel fuzzy.

"I beg to differ, I definitely touched it first." She snatched it away, he failed to grab it in time. He watched her with a fake frown while she took a big gulp.

"You just take what you want, don't you?" he asked while grabbing another drink.

She smacked her lips, feeling the burn in her throat and stomach. "I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't take it, Marston." It was true, she'd be jobless, penniless and homeless otherwise. John shook his head, grinning like a man who was in love. He still loved Ana, more than he could admit to anyone. The thought of their upcoming goodbye made him want to appreciate every inch of her body and soul.

"I guess you're right. You sure did take me without asking." Ana almost spat out her drink at such a forward statement, she raised her eyebrows.

"Nope, the first time we kissed was your doing. I was blind drunk but I remember that part all too well," she said, placing a hand on her hip.

John put on his thinking face. That was a night he had no memory of, not one of his finest moments. It puzzled him to think that without that forgotten night, that drunken kiss, their relationship likely wouldn't have happened. For once, he was thankful for his intoxicated actions. A question left his mouth as it popped into his head.

"Do you regret it?" he asked softly.

Ana's face relaxes, she watches her heel dig into the ground. "Regret is a funny thing, don't you think? You feel it so strongly in one moment and then it loses its power with time. Well, that or it drives you mad. To answer your question, no. I don't think I'll ever regret us."

They both look up from staring at the ground, their eyes meeting. He always liked seeing her brown eyes since they were almost the same shade as his. Another thing he'd always admired was her way of thinking, he'd known few women who were as insightful as her. Abigail was simple, and he liked that about the mother of his child. He figured it was the complexity and rareness of Anastasia Fetcher that made him love her so strongly. Also, she was tough as hell, so was Abigail. Maybe he did really love Abigail too, it was just different with her. Who he loved more didn't matter, he had to look out for his family now, like Arthur told him to. That choice didn't stop him from craving closure with the woman who stood before him.

John subconsciously replayed the memory of confessing his feelings to her. It poured that day like God was trying to cleanse the world of its sins. He found it funny how dramatic the weather made it seem. The romantic buried deep within him wanted to ask for her hand in marriage right then and there if only circumstances were different.

Whiskey, or what he called liquid courage, empowered him to demand an answer from her. "Stop giving me an earful and just say you love me. I'm tired of this 'I care about you, Marston' shit because it's a load of crap. I know how I feel; how can you not know by now?"

Ana felt the need to defend herself but purposely chose not to. She thought out loud. "Fair enough. I love you, Marston. I love how sure you are that you love me, and I love the man you're becoming. Now excuse me while I drown myself in a tub full of whiskey."

She walked off without allowing him to respond. John smiled to himself, the kind of satisfied smile that couldn't be suppressed. He'd finally gotten through that thick skull of hers. For the rest of the night, they exchanged knowing stares across camp until they had the opportunity to sneak off. They made love to and with each other on a bed of leaves, like they had so many times before.

…

Hangovers and resentment don't mix well. The gang seemed to be making progress towards reconciliation last night, that was undone when Micah's buddies showed up in the morning. Joe and Cleet, two rat-faced men who could hardly form a proper sentence. Ana found it troubling and slightly comedic since they were like dumber, uglier versions of Micah. John and Arthur had been quietly complaining about them to whoever would listen, Miss Grimshaw, on the other hand, made her disapproval known with volume. Ana was the first of the gang to approach the newcomers directly instead of gossiping.

"Hi there, Joe and Cleet, right? I'm Ana, thought I should introduce myself since we'll be robbing a train together pretty soon." She thought about shaking their hands until she noticed how dirty they were, they reeked like they hadn't bathed since winter.

They stared without a hint of friendliness, clearly sizing her up. "Since when do whores rob trains?" Joe asked Micah who was leaning on a stone wall. Ana felt her body stiffen and her mind run wild with insults. If she weren't still trying to fool Micah, she would've broken that idiot's nose.

Micah slithered over, snickering feebly and flashing a smile that was repulsive. "She ain't no whore, unless Dutch and John been paying you all along?" He bumped into her side with his elbow, acting as if she should find this entertaining.

Ana rolled her eyes. There was no possible way she could pretend to laugh at that, it made her feel sick to be treated with such disrespect. She was beginning to leave when a pair of greasy hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. Joe locked her in with his arms while she squirmed. Micah and Cleet cheered as if they were watching dancing girls.

Joe was a big guy, almost as big as Arthur, she couldn't overpower him. No one in camp had noticed what was happening. "Let me go you bastard!" She hoped her shout would attract attention. Joe let her go as soon as he saw Arthur marching over with John not far behind. A small crowd had gathered. Dutch emerged from his tent.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" John growled.

Ana bit her lip nervously; this situation could escalate quickly. "They're just a pair of fools. I'm fine, let's just forget about it."

Dutch put out his cigar on the table before making his way to Ana's side. He slid a hand onto her back and pointed his finger at Micah's minions. "Listen here boys, you best show Miss Fetcher some respect. She's earned her place here unlike you two."

"You heard the man," Micah added, suddenly switching his personality to the nice guy he was whenever Dutch was watching.

"Dutch, what are you thinking, letting these two lowlifes waltz around camp like they own the goddamn place? What is happening to you?" Arthur asked with an appalled expression on his face.

Dutch let go of Ana and took a single step towards the man he used to trust more than anyone. His stare was cold and challenging.

"Excuse me?"

Ana sighed with relief when a bunch of oncoming horses caught everyone's notice. Eagle Flies, followed by his men, appeared to be fuming with rage.

"Mr. Van der Linde, Mr. Morgan, Charles, Ana!" he called out, stopping his horse once he saw the gang gathering. Ana was surprised he even remembered her name. "They tried to kill my people for oil. For oil! Today we ride once more. Ride with me, ride with us!"

"I love your courage, son," Dutch raised his arms pridefully while the sun lit his face, "it is a thing of great beauty."

Something snapped inside of Ana. A voice in her head told her to stop the performance, to act on her instincts, to be impulsive. She was never going to trick Micah anyhow, she had to take back control before it was beyond her reach.

"No, that isn't courage, it's cowardice. Eagle Flies, you and your men will die if you do this. Corpses can't protect your people!" She moved in front of Dutch, her eyes fiery with passion. Dutch starred daggers into the back of her head. This wasn't the woman who promised to always have his back, she was betraying him by directly questioning his authority.

Rains Fall came riding in from the Eastern path, waving frantically. "Stop! Everyone stop!" He got off his horse, stumbling towards his boy. "My son… my last son, don't. When I was your age I fought, and I saw death. The men and women I knew were slain. We made peace, I had no choice. Maybe you were right, a slow death is worse than a fast one. But we must endure, do not die for pride my son!"

"Listen to your father, pride is weakness if it guides you to dying for a war that is lost. Let pride be your strength by refusing to give these men what they want." Eagle Flies looked between Ana and his father, feeling less assured, but his stubbornness was unbreakable.

"These words mean nothing to me. Ride with me!" Eagle Flies took off before his father could object.

Ana shook her head and turned back to the gang. Dutch lost his control, he stomped till he was towering a head above her. He grabbed the collar of her shirt until his knuckles turned white.

"Where did your sense of loyalty go?" he asked quietly, it sent a fearful chill down her spine.

She touched his cheek, trying to get through to the man she loved. "Loyalty goes both ways, Dutch. I know dismissing the lives of innocent men isn't your way, please trust me."

"Another doubter, I should've seen it coming. I have a plan, Ana, I always do." He dismissed her, redirecting his attention to Rains Fall who was begging Arthur to save his son. John and she shared an uneasy look. He was almost ready to draw his gun on Dutch. She focused on steadying her shaky hands by gripping the material of her pants.

"Alright… who's riding with me?" Arthur asked the gang.

"Oh I'll ride with you Arthur, wouldn't wanna miss this," Dutch answered with mockery in his tone.

The rest of the gang responded with their own version of yes. They headed for their horses, Arthur subtly tugged Ana to the back. He was sure to keep his voice down. "Micah will never trust you after that stunt you just pulled."

"I'm done playing games, Arthur. More folks will die if we don't stop him."

"No, we get the others safe then you and me go North. Ain't no time for revenge," Arthur spoke sternly. He squeezed her wrist to soothe her, hesitating before stroking his calloused thumb along her soft skin. It seemed to put her at ease for a moment.

"We'll never be safe while he's alive," she said before they separated to mount their horses. They joined the triangle formation the gang rode in. Dutch led the pack like always.

…

I rode a couple of horses behind Dutch, Sadie was next to me with John and Arthur right in front of us. A cool breeze was pushing my hair out of my face, I could smell rain brewing in the clouds. The autumn heat was leaving us, soon the cold would creep in. No one had bothered to make conversation so far, the sounds of horses galloping were all I heard. I hope that Dutch will see my act of supposed defiance was one of reason. I sulked at the word hope because I have such little left. Still, little is not none, I will drill sense back into Dutch's brain before I leave, even if he ends up hating me for it.

"Why the hell would they attack the oil fields?" asked John, disrupting the pattern awkward silence.

I jumped in, my beliefs poured from my mouth like honey, it made me feel strong to speak my mind without being cautious of what others would think. "Cause those young men have seen nothing but violence and hatred their whole lives, they know no other means of retaliation. This country has stolen everything from them, including their innocence."

"That is right Miss Fetcher, the army, the government, the industrialists… they stole from them, wouldn't you want the chance to fight back?" Dutch asked, sounding somewhat passive aggressive.

I wet my chapped lips with the tip of my tongue. "Fighting is different than dying without cause, Mr. Van der Linde."

Arthur gently coughed into his palm before speaking. "Wait… this was your idea, Dutch? You've handed them a goddamn death sentence!"

"Just like John if we hadn't got him out of that prison!" Sadie spoke abruptly. She'd always had a way of sounding harsher than everyone.

"Hey, show some goddamn respect," said Bill from behind me.

"Clearly you ain't seen Sadie being disrespectful Bill," I added, defending my friend.

Dutch's shoulders tensed like they always did whenever he was pissed off. I've nearly memorized his body language after months spent by his side. It hurts to think that soon I may never again witness the way his facial muscles relax as he leans in to kiss me. I put that pain aside for later.

"I had a plan… I still have a plan."

Plan, another word I've come to despise after hearing it leave Dutch's mouth endlessly.

"What plan? What goddamn plan, Dutch? Tahiti? Timbuktu?" John asked spitefully. The rasp in his voice was clearly furious.

Javier finally says something. "That's enough. What's wrong with you all? What happened to loyalty?"

I scoff, mumbling to myself. "Didn't realize asking questions makes us disloyal…" I watch the back of Dutch's black hair. The distance between us is killing me, tears pricked my eyes, I rapidly blinked them away. I had to fix things before the battle, who knows what could happen to us. I cut in front of Arthur and Javier to get next to him, ignoring the questioning looks I was probably getting from the others.

I took a quick breath to minimize my stuttering. "I… I just wanted to tell you that I'm real sorry. It weren't right to defy you like that, I guess I just want those boys to do better than us." I look at Dutch, waiting for a reaction. His stone-like face diminishes while he sighs, he returns my stare. A sense of relief washes over me, I'm starting to think Dutch has a soft spot for me.

"And I apologize for losing my temper, dear girl. We can't always agree on everything. You gotta keep your faith, that's all I ask, this'll all make sense soon."

I sent him a side smile and a nod before slowing down till I was back in place. A part of me feels guilty for planning to leave behind Dutch's back. If I really can get him to see the truth about Micah, maybe he'd be willing to come with me. That would be the best-case scenario.

Dutch prompts us to ride harder and we do so. Arthur twists his neck, glancing at John before he turns to me. He is telling me something, that is apparent through his tight lips and narrowed eyes. Perhaps he's got a bad feeling about what we're heading into. I anxiously swallow when he looks forward.

We arrive at a small hill overlooking the oil fields, black smoke is rising from a massive fire. This place reeks of death and pollution. It's a massacre, just like I was expecting.

"I see Eagle Flies, over there." Charles points to a figure crossing the walkway.

"I'll see if I can get to him if you go distract them, I'm better off alone," Arthur said to Dutch, motioning to where the bulk of the fighting is.

I roll my eyes at what is an irrational strategy. "Better off alone? Yeah right. I'm coming with you, dumbass."

Arthur chuckles, understanding he doesn't have a choice in the matter. "Fine, get off that damn horse. You shoot like a little city girl on horseback."

I get on the back of Arthur's black steed, poking him in the ribs for teasing me.

"Alright, just… keep her safe and meet us at the factory," Dutch said without looking at me, "rest of you, ride with me!"

Everyone besides Charles, John and Sadie follow Dutch. I admit riding amongst people I trust makes me feel unstoppable.

"Come on then, ride with me!" Arthur says assertively. We ride down the hill, shooting each guard that blocks our path. Arthur was right, my aim is significantly better when I'm not the one controlling the mount. My bullets find their way to the chest of every target, their bodies dropping at my will. Arthur, as always, manages to make headshots look like child's play. Our horses stop at the train tracks, everyone dismounts, sprinting to cover wherever is closest. I duck behind a pile of wooden planks. Bullets are flying at us from above.

"Shoot the bastards in the tower!" I yell to anyone who can hear me. I take aim at a sniper who is rather eager to blow our heads off. A smile creeps onto my face when I shoot his weapon from his hand. He retreats, I doubt he'll give us any more trouble.

"Quick, get across that bridge!" Charles sounds panicked even though Arthur had already taken out the men on the bridge. I almost trip on a dead's man gun while crossing.

We move together, keeping our eyes peeled for Eagle Flies. The young man conveniently bursts through the entrance of a cabin, fighting off a stranger in uniform. Arthur shoots his enemy in the head.

He looks surprised yet pleased to see that we've come for him. "Thank you, thank you for coming. My men are fighting by the factory, we must save them!"

Taking cover is a waste of time, we dashed through the area, shooting whoever got in our way. Stopping would mean getting shot, so my feet moved faster than my mind. It felt like the dance of a gunslinger. The guards were dropping like flies, probably because fighting isn't their nature. It's ours.

We were at an advantage until a Gatling gun fired nonstop at us. Boy, do I hate those things. My fellow outlaws darted towards protection, I was a few steps behind when I feel the blow to my calf. Arthur kills whoever attacked me while I stagger towards a few barrels. Before I have a chance to inspect the wound, Arthur pulls a throwing knife out of my leg. I groan and slam my fist against the sandy ground.

"Didn't go too deep, can you walk?" he asks loudly into my ear, keeping his head down while the others keep on shooting.

I tear off my bandana, tying it tightly around the cut. "Been shot in the same shoulder twice and didn't die, you think a knife is gonna stop me now? Let's go."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "That tough act you got going on is real adorable, Fetcher. Now keep your head down while I take care of this bastard." My eyes stayed on him while he rose above me, taking a single shot with his rifle. The Gatling gun stopped firing. Does he realize what a force of nature he is? He offers me his hand and I take it, now jogging with a slight limp.

We moved up, finally reaching the factory. The gunfire grew louder as we turned the corner. I spotted a guardsman with his back to me, I kicked him to the ground with my uninjured leg, firing a bullet to seal his fate.

Thunder roars abruptly like it's scolding this world, I quickly look up at a thick layer of storm clouds I hadn't even noticed. The downpour was upon us in seconds, blurring our sight, soaking us to the core and turning dirt into mud. I squint while shooting at the small number of men left.

The gunfire came to a halt. "I don't see none of them standing no more!" Bill shouted.

Arthur goes to Dutch while Sadie and I watch out for reinforcements. I turn around at the bang of Dutch shooting a door open, I'm about to follow him inside when he stops me by placing his hand on my upper arm.

"We're gonna get our ticket outta here, Ana. Rest of you, get outta here!" Dutch pauses, lowering his head so his mouth is right next to my ear, "Wait for me here. We're so close now, don't let me down."

I return to Sadie, who ignored Dutch's command to leave. Charles and Eagle Flies are searching for survivors. The few injured men remaining left with the rest of our gang. The rain came and went, it's almost unbearably quiet after all that noise.

Sadie ends the comfortable silence between us, keeping her sight fixed on the sunset. "Arthur told me about leaving, wants me to come with."

That doesn't surprise me, he'd always thought highly of the indestructible widow who I admittedly strive to be like. I'd even got the impression he liked her more than he let on. Could that be why he ended things with Mary?

"You think he likes you?" I ask neutrally, unable to picture what sort of couple they'd turn out to be.

She cackled as if that was the most ridiculous suggestion she's heard in all her years. "That's real funny hon. We is just friends, I assure you," she sighs faintly before explaining, "my Jakey was the only man for me. He was good, just like Arthur. I… I just don't see how I could feel that way about anyone after losing him."

I hummed, letting her know that I understood her reasoning.

"What about you and Arthur?" she asked, looking at my face. My eyes widen, my cheeks feel hot, meaning they're probably a horrifying shade of red.

"Arthur and me? Come on, that's just… crazy. Plus, he wouldn't lay a finger on any girl my age after Eliza."

Sadie laughs softly, apparently finding my reaction amusing. "Alright, alright, no need to panic. You're just like two peas in a pod nowadays. Anyways… I think I might do some travelling on my own once we rob that train, maybe do some bounty hunting. What about you and Morgan?"

I hadn't considered what we would do beyond running and surviving. "Not much we can do with the price on our heads."

Dutch and Arthur slam the door open, dragging Eagle Flies between them. A gasp escapes my mouth when I see the hole in his stomach, a non-survivable wound that only a shotgun could cause. The blood pours from his guts like a waterfall, making me lightheaded. Arthur and Charles are helping him onto a horse while Dutch waves what looks like state bonds in his hand.

"We did it, we got some money, and with the train job… everything is coming together, exactly as I planned." Dutch taps his temple arrogantly, putting away his prize like it's the most precious thing he owns. It disturbs me to witness how his tunnel vision causes a disregard for the life of a young man.

"I'm gonna get the boy to his father," Arthur says while heading for his horse, Charles follows him without being asked.

"I'll come hel-"

Arthur spins around, preventing me from finishing my sentence by gripping my shoulder. "No, you don't need to see this, ain't gonna be nothing nice."

I bow my head with guilt, we say nothing else as we separate. Dutch gives me a strange look before offering his hand. We ride The Count back to camp through the night, the moonlight acting as our guide amongst the darkness.

A/N: Chapter 25! That scene where Arthur rides to the factory was one of the best moments in the game. Dutch didn't leave Arthur in this, makes sense since he isn't as crazy as he in the game due to Ana's presence

 **Fun fact:** This fic is a love triangle primarily between Ana, John and Dutch. But I've been setting up the potential relationship between Ana and Arthur throughout this entire fic. IF it happens, it will be a slow burn, unlike how it was with the other men lol. Are there any moments you can think of that hinted at a connection between them?

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	26. Chapter 26

Hosea passed away the night after the oil field attack. Dutch was by his side until he took his final breath. Everybody besides Micah and his fellow snakes said goodbye to the gang's long-time voice of reason. Ana squeezed his cold, fragile hand, thanking him for his guidance and promising she'd do her best to keep the others safe. They buried him on a hill overlooking a vast valley, where the air smelt sweet and the sun shines radiantly on the best of days. Dutch spoke kind and poetic words about his father figure. Arthur's speech was short but loving. His death wasn't sudden, which makes grieving a little less painful for those that knew him best. Dutch reminded everyone that the train job is still on, he wouldn't hear any objections. Ana has been discreetly packing her bag with essentials at night even though the gang is preparing to move. She felt wrong doing it openly with a different plan in mind than Dutch.

Ana was restless by Dutch's side tonight. He'd fallen asleep in what felt like five minutes while she's been up for hours. It was nearing dawn. The sight of their fearless leader resting was something she'd treasured since she started sharing his bed. The way his exposed chest rises with each elongated inhale and how his thick eyelashes twitch when he's dreaming. He was vulnerable in this state, just like a normal person. She's always been fascinated by the simple truth of the mind setting itself free at night. No restrictions, just a wide-open space of blackness, waiting to be filled.

The birds were chirping when she sneaks out of bed, tiptoeing into her boots as she puts a jacket on over her thin nightgown. The camp is dead silent as she makes her way towards a tree with a book in hand. Unexpectedly, her reading spot has been taken over by another. She can tell it's Arthur from the sounds of scribbling. He must be doing one of his fine-looking drawings that he's only shown her once. She wonders if he's done another picture of her since then.

"Morgan, what you doing?" She keeps her voice down to avoid awakening the camp.

His blue eyes are on her, wide with obvious shock. He shuts his journal before she takes a peek. "Jesus woman I didn't hear you coming" he pats the ground next to him, she takes a seat, tucking her legs to the side. "Can't sleep, you?"

She nods with exhaustion, Arthur frowns in return. She finds herself remembering everything they've been through together. "How come you and me are such good friends?" She asks innocently.

Arthur shrugs. "Suppose being kidnapped by Colm O'Driscoll and escaping together gets the wheels of bonding to turn."

She jokingly nudges him, they exchange a humorous grin. "Uh-huh, you teasing me like a big brother sure helped."

He pauses, his face looking thoughtful. "You never saw all them jokes as something more, did you?"

She freezes, digging her nails into her palm nervously. She's lost her ability to speak.

Arthur laughs a bit awkwardly. "I don't mean it like that… not now. Maybe I used to, just a little. You showed up outta nowhere with those wide eyes and that sweet smile, hell… I think most of the boys was thinking the same thing, but Marston and Dutch got there first."

She manages to open her mouth and say something, though it's hardly a whisper. "I never thought about it like that…"

He gets up, visibly wanting to remove himself from this situation. "It's like that whenever a new girl shows up. I've got your back, that ain't never gonna change."

She watches his feet as he walks away, leaving her to stare aimlessly into the night sky and dissect what Arthur Morgan just said.

The next day…

Ana started off her morning in a sour mood. She just managed to sneak in a few hours of shuteye until being abruptly awakened by Dutch and Miss Grimshaw arguing about something. The gang's strict mother's voice sounded like nails scratching a chalkboard, while Dutch sounded like a lion. The combination was brutal, so no one risked getting involved.

An urge for change was tugging at Ana's heart. She took a pair of scissors, chopping her wavy hair down to a shoulder-length bob and parting it to the side. While getting dressed, she reached for the colours blue and white instead of red. A new life meant a new Ana, she figured she should start embracing her new identity.

Mary-Beth, Karen, Uncle, Reverend Swanson and Strauss abandoned Beaver Hollow at dawn. The camp felt smaller and spirits were low. It was unlike the excitement before they robbed the bank in Saint Denis.

Ana sat down between Sadie and John in front of the smoky campfire. Everyone was there while Dutch and Arthur were having what looked like a tense conversation nearby.

John passes Ana his half-burnt cigarette. "You cut your hair?" He reaches for a reddish lock, rubbing it between his fingers.

She takes a quick puff, relaxing at the feeling of smoke filling her lungs. "No, I just woke up and half of it was gone."

John smiles slowly, letting out a gentle scoff. "Easy now Fetcher, I was trying to say you look pretty."

Ana makes sure no one is looking when she slides a hand up the back of John's shirt. She lightly trails her fingertips along his warm skin. John clears his throat to cover up his shiver. "You should just say what you mean, Marston, and thank you."

She swiftly pulls herself away from the curve of his lower back when Micah sends her a nasty look. "Now you and Marston can share grooming tips!" He slaps his knee, disregarding several scowls being sent his way.

Ana hunches forward, touching her own knees. "That's golden coming from you, cowpoke, considering you've probably never smelt like anything but sweat, booze and whores for… what like forty years now?" Her words were sharp and quickly crafted. Insults were like a second language whenever Ana was in Micah's company. It was easier now that she wasn't trying to trick him.

"Learn to show some goddamn respect! The way you is talking, like you was raised by dogs," Bill barks.

"Shut up, Bill!" John and Sadie say simultaneously. Everyone pauses before bursting with mellow chuckles. The laughter fades when Dutch strides with confidence towards the horses.

"Come on friends, it's time to borrow some money from the government. Ready your minds and guns for our last score, freedom awaits," he announces, reviving his old charismatic self. Ana watches him diligently, there's something off in how his gaze is intentionally avoiding hers. She jogs to catch up with him.

"We ain't robbed in some time, this should be fun," she comments, coaxing him for an indication of his mood.

Dutch all but ignores her until he answers spitefully. "Go ride with Arthur since you two seem to enjoy that so much these days."

"Huh? Where is this coming from, Dutch?" she asks, sounding irritated.

He takes one look at her when he reaches The Count. "Go on, I insist."

Ana doesn't give him the satisfaction of anger because pressing him will start a fight. Instead, feeling tired of depending on men, she mounts her own horse. She pats the creature gently on the neck, offering an apple to boost its energy levels.

The gang takes off, riding as one for the last time. Ana observes how Javier, Bill, Micah, Joe and Cleet stay to the left of Dutch, while John, Arthur and Sadie keep to the right. The divide has never been clearer, the hate brewing to a boiling point, the loyalty breaking; it was all hanging by a thread. She decides on staying behind so she's not forced to either side.

"Let's pick up the pace, the train is due in Saint Denis in an hour," Dutch states. Ana's mind reverts back to the bank robbery in Saint Denis. She gave herself to the Pinkertons to save Hosea that day and she'd do it again for any of her friends, including Dutch. Death is impossible to avoid, the only thing that frightened her was dying without cause.

"We're robbing a train in the middle of a city?" Arthur apprehensively questions the plan.

"No… it's making a stop there, you big fool. We sneak on and do our business before they reach the patrol in Annesburg," Micah responds as if Arthur was stupid, even though no one had been informed of almost anything beforehand.

"John, Arthur, go get that dynamite. We'll meet back up just outside the city," Dutch instructs.

John glances at Ana, wondering if he should bring her along as well. He decides not to, reminding himself Sadie is there. The pair turns right onto a trail riddled with shrubs.

…

The typical stink of civilization is potent on the outskirts of the famous city. We're waiting for Arthur and John to arrive with the dynamite before we get going. Micah has been incessantly kissing Dutch's ass while we wait, sweating like pigs. I undid my shirt further, not caring about the cleavage it reveals. Modesty doesn't do me any favours when it's this hot. One last day of summer, I suppose.

"You won't be needing no clothes in Tahiti, sweetheart," Micah said under his breath. My nose turns up at his nickname.

"By that absurd logic you won't be needing your head no more. How 'bout I get that heavy thing off your shoulders? It'll only hurt a little, sweetheart," I mock his sly tone, tilting my head naughtily.

"Shit, Arthur taught you good… what else he teach you? Probably how to take it from behind, he seems like the type."

A flash of anger radiates throughout my body. Micah is a fly that I need to squash. "Shut your nasty fucking mouth you-"

"Enough, both of you! I'm long tired of this childish fighting!" Dutch yells, bawling us both out. I cross my arms, feeling like a disciplined child.

Arthur and John finally arrive, we start riding at a steady pace towards the train station. Micah antagonizes John during the ride. I don't pay any more mind to his words because they're truly meaningless. He is nothing, and he'll be less than nothing once he's dead, which'll hopefully be soon.

By luck or chance, the train station is empty as we ride in. Dutch sighs deeply as if he believed air would refine his strategy. He dismounts, and we follow closely, scanning the area for lawmen or anyone who might recognize us. Surely someone saw us strutting through town like a bunch of cowboys, and with our faces plastered on every other corner… I shake the invasion of thoughts from my mind. Robbing and overthinking mixes as well as peaches and beans.

"Alright, John, Arthur, you board at the back. Cleet, Sadie, get on half-way," Dutch says, pointing at each of them. "Rest of you, follow Micah and me, we're joining once they stop the train."

I run my fingers through my hair, visualizing the plan. "I can board at the front, my horse is pretty but won't be able to keep up with you all."

Dutch stares at the tracks, scratching his chin. "Do what you will, Miss Fetcher."

I swallow anxiously, if only I could ask what's got him so mad at me. The ground rumbles, mimicking an earthquake, a chugging sound gets increasingly louder. A whistle announces its arrival. The train simply zooms past us with no sign of stopping. My jaw drops, gawking at the failure that's as clear as day.

"Should I just sneak on now?" Arthur asks sarcastically. I almost want to laugh.

Dutch mumbles a few curse words while thinking on his feet. "Well… everybody mount up!"

I hop on my horse, giving it a kick. It neighs in response, galloping to the best of its ability. I'm just able to catch up to the back of the train, I forcefully throw myself on, not caring about landing gracefully. John grabs me when I land, preventing my body from smacking into the ground. I thank him with a nod.

"Money is up front, we gotta push forward," he says while shooting down a guard.

Arthur and I follow his lead, firing at anything that moves and taking cover when we can. The men here are easy kills since the army doesn't waste decent guards on transportation duties. We drill a hole through their defences.

All was going smoothly until some fool shot a lantern which managed to set an entire carriage on fire, blocking our only path.

John leans over a railing, calling for help. Bill, Micah and Dutch come to our aid. "Ladies first," Arthur says, pushing me forward. I use the power in my thighs to jump onto Dutch's horse, steadying myself by grabbing onto his arms. The Count moves like lighting, I hold on tight.

"Let Arthur and John handle this!" Dutch shouts as we reach the walkway.

"No, they'll need my gun if that patrol gets on us!" I jump back on, managing to land on my feet this time.

"Uncouple that carriage before it blows!" Arthur yells, pointing at the flames. I cover John while he does so. Half of the train falls behind us, flipping over and setting off no small explosion.

Turning around, I notice a guard aiming his rifle at John. A high-pitched warning leaves my mouth while I instinctively shove John away from harm while lifting my pistol. A noise so familiar but horrendous makes my ears ring. A gunshot. The pain is instantaneous, a punch through my flesh, fogging my mind with suffering. Someone screams my name. I reach for the deep hole in my arm, the blood gushing from me confirms that I've been shot. My balance falters, I stumble backwards off the speeding train. My head slams onto something solid, black spots scattering across my vision. The pain is paralyzing, I whimper helplessly, squeezing my eyes shut and allowing myself to slip out of consciousness.

…

Ana's body lays limp under the sweltering evening sun. She groans when she wakes, swearing repeatedly with every word in her vocabulary. It felt like her arm was on fire. It was tempting to just lay there until she bled out, though she figured eventually someone would come back. The sound of oncoming horses forces her to lift her head to see who it is. Dutch is riding full-speed along with Micah and Joe. She wonders why three men are needed to retrieve one woman. A knot in her stomach causes the pain to subside momentarily.

"I…" she winces while trying to sit up, the fall from the train was sure to give her a few bruises. "I'm fine, just need some help."

Dutch looks down at her from his white stallion, shadow covering half his face. "Micah told me everything."

The little strength she has left gives out, she helplessly lays back down. "Everything?" she asks, not entirely sure what Dutch was implying.

The notorious leader dismounts, squatting next to the bleeding girl he once trusted. He wipes blood off her chin with his thumb. "This whole time… I should've seen it. You've been working for those Pinkertons, feeding them our plans and pointing the finger at Micah. Everything stopped going our way when you showed up and I fell for it for so goddamn long. You blinded me with lust and love."

"No, Dutch… you've got it so very wrong my love," she says softly.

"Don't listen to her, boss. She's just manipulating you," Micah adds. He had to contain his satisfaction, this was completely going his way.

"No one else would've survived being imprisoned by the Pinkertons, Anastasia. I'm sorry my dear girl, I just can't trust you no more," Dutch speaks sympathetically, wishing there was another solution. He got up, leaving behind the woman he shared his life with. He couldn't bear to look back.

"Don't you dare walk away, he's lying!" she pleads, her voice cracking. The men ride off without another word. She screams with frustration, they've left her here to die. She allows herself to sob without holding back, weeping till her chest hurts and there's nothing left. Then, rage fuels her to push herself up.

"Fuck this, you're not dead yet," she murmurs to herself.

She wraps her bandana tightly around her arm to stop the bleeding. It hurt like hell, she bites her lip to sustain it. Her arms and legs are begging to stay put, but she needs to get back to camp before they leave. Dutch must've lied about her fate. Without any clear plan in mind, she begins the long walk home. The most memorable words spoken to her during her time with the Van der Linde gang echo as her thoughts drift beyond control.

 _Seems we've found ourselves a beautiful troublemaker, haven't we boys? My name is Dutch van der Linde, and who might you be?_

 _What you trying to say, miss? I wouldn't look tough without them?_

 _Let me guess, you're out here, looking at the lake and burning something, so you can try and figure out how to solve the world's problems. Am I right?_

 _You're always putting yourself in danger, Ana. If you keep on playing the hero, you're gonna get yourself killed. And believe me when I say no one wants that to happen._

 _If you ask me, I think they're lucky to have you. There's a good woman inside you, waiting to break free. Just remember you could do it on your own. Women like you can make it without a man._

 _Oh, I sincerely disbelieve that, my dear. You're a natural-born torchbearer, you just don't know it yet._

 _I… I might just love you. That's just the way it is. And I can't be sorry for that._

 _Here, take this. No matter what happens, just remember that the man who gave you this… loves you, and always will._

She'd nearly forgotten about the ring Dutch gifted to her, it was stored in her satchel for safe-keeping. The heartbreak is too raw to toss the thing.

The sun was setting, she won't make it to camp on time at this rate. She whistles, praying her horse will hear her from this distance. It takes just a few minutes for it to come to her aid, she hugs it thankfully.

"Come on honey, you know where to go," she mumbles into the horse's ear. She mounts the calm steed, slouching as it gallops towards camp.

The ride is relatively quick considering Ana's lethargic state. As her destination grows nearer, she pops a piece of cocaine gum into her mouth to pep her up. She felt nauseous at what might happen upon her arrival. Her return from the dead was sure to shake things up. The medicine had done its job; she was as alert as a deer. She admired how the sunset cast an orange glow on the terrain. Despite its flaws, this country still had beauty, a beauty that was worth living for.

Ana leaves her horse away from camp, wanting to make a discreet entry. The voices grow louder as she walks the trail. It appears the situation had escalated from bad to worse; Arthur and John were in a standoff with Micah, Joe and Cleet. Dutch stood there with a conflicted look in his eyes.

"Dutch!" she shouts, limping with determination. All eyes are on her, hearts skipping a beat at the woman everyone figured was dead. "If you wanted me dead, you should've put a goddamn bullet in my brain, you fucking coward!" Tears reappear, making her eyes glossy, she blinks them away.

He approaches slowly, frowning at her distressed appearance. The truth was beyond his reach with Arthur's recent claim that Milton said Micah was the rat. "Ana… darling, there was no choice, what would you do if you were me?"

"I would've listened to the people I trust, not some snake that strokes your ego!" She stands by Arthur, drawing her pistol and aiming right at Micah. "Dutch, you can still fix this. Do the right thing, I'm begging you," she softens her harsh tone, knowing love still remains between them despite everything. He bows his head, at war with his own pride.

"All of you, pick your side now because this is over," Arthur says viciously. "All them years, Dutch, for this snake?" He points his gun at Micah.

Micah chuckles cruelly. "Oh be quiet cowpoke, you've lost your mind."

Miss Grimshaw marches over with a shotgun, looking annoyed with this conflict. "Shut your mouth and drop the gun."

Javier sprints towards them, his worries placed elsewhere. "A bunch of Pinkertons are coming!"

Micah takes a shot at Susan. She collapses, shrieking like a wounded animal. Ana gasps, refusing to be distracted no matter how much she wants to help the woman. Her cries are excruciating to the ear.

Dutch lifts his pistols, pointing them at both sides. "Now, who amongst you…. is with me, and who is betraying me?" He looks back and forth.

Ana scoffs at a question that has the answer laying before him. Susan's wails come to a stop. "Why don't you look at that dying woman over there? There's your answer, Dutch. It's been there before. Sean, Lenny, almost was Hosea. How many people have to die because you're too proud to be wrong? When does it end?" she asks, clinging onto one last shred of hope.

"Bill, Javier, think for yourselves!" Arthur says to the men who've joined Micah's side. Ana's eyes meet Javier's, she can spot the uncertainty within them, he mouths an inaudible apology to them. It breaks her heart to witness a man who lets loyalty control his every choice even when he knows better.

Gunfire from elsewhere distracts everyone. The Pinkertons had arrived. Arthur, Ana and John retreat into the cave while the others follow Dutch into the forest.

A man who identified himself as Agent Ross shouts after them. "Mr Morgan, Mr Marston, Miss Fetcher, you're trapped. Surrender and we will take you alive!"

Ana is thankful they don't know about the hidden entrance, that means they won't be as concerned about their escape. She watches her feet as she moves down a steep rock. They've almost reached the ladder within seconds due to their fast pace.

"If Dutch left you of all people for dead then he has truly lost it," Arthur says, sounding revolted. Based on Dutch's genuinely sorrowful reaction, he truly thought his close friend was gone. He'd planned to search for her body once he got John and his family to safety.

"He was so sure I was the rat! We should've just shot Micah dead all them months ago like you said," she responds, regretting her decision to outsmart him.

"I wanted to go back for you, Ana. We found out Milton kidnapped Abigail and we had to go get her. He's dead now, by the way," John adds as they climb the ladder.

Ana smiles to herself. At least one good thing came out of today. "Good. Jack is safe?"

"Yeah, they're waiting for us with Sadie at Copperhead Landing," he answers.

They reach the surface and run to the nearest road, whistling for their horses. John takes the brief moment they have to pull Ana into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "What you did for me was… it was dumb. You've got a death wish… but thank you."

"You can thank me by doing right by your boy," she answers.

"She's right, you can't look back," Arthur adds. John nods without a trace of hesitation. Their horses arrive, Ana gets on John's since hers is nowhere to be seen.

Shots are fired at them through the fog. Ana looks back, shooting as they gallop away. She almost rolls her eyes when she realizes it's Dutch and the others tailing them. It baffled her to wonder why they weren't more worried about getting out of here. She noted how Dutch was intentionally not firing at her. To add onto their problems, Pinkertons join in on the chase. The forest has become a warzone.

John's stallion collapses, tossing Ana and him to the ground. Both of them get up right away. She watches Arthur, who's whispering goodbye to his beloved horse. It pains her to watch him lose his most trusted companion.

"Come on, we gotta go!" John shouts, motioning towards the hill.

"What about the money? It's still in the cave, we're all gonna need it." Arthur says, pointing in the opposite direction.

"I'll die if I go down there, I gotta go to my family," John says while breathing heavily. Six months ago, he wouldn't have ever chosen his boy over all that money, but he wasn't that man anymore.

Ana looks up the hill, then back down. It's clear to her that if someone has to go, it should be her. She'd always had a talent for sneaking, and knowing that Arthur would keep John safe was the only reason she was comfortable doing this. "I'll go back for the money then meet you all after."

Arthur and John look at her like she's insane. "Hell no! You've been shot once today, ain't that enough?" John asks, his voice getting raspier.

"Marston, I keep getting shot and keep living, luck is on my side. Let me do this, it would make me happy knowing your family has what it needs to build a real life," she smiles reassuringly. Truthfully, she knows she might die on this mission, but she plans on living long enough to do the right thing.

Arthur steps in front of her, holding her lovingly by the shoulders. "Nothing I say will change your mind, I know that. If you get yourself killed, I'll wake you up just to throw you in a swamp full of alligators, you hear me girl?"

"I hear you." He pulls her into a tight hug, wishing her luck despite his certainty that he'll see her again. He hands her the key to the lockbox before letting John say goodbye in case she doesn't make it out alive.

John exhales, feeling irritated he can't convince her not to play the hero. It was somewhat of a comfort to know she's made it out of so many deadly situations before. He opens his mouth to speak until he's interrupted by her.

"Let me guess, you love me? You know how I feel, get yourself safe before I make you leave," she smirks playfully. He adored her sarcasm in serious times.

"I'll see you soon, Fetcher," he says before planting a kiss on her mouth. It's short and sweet, leaving both their lips tingling. In that moment, they left believing they'd see each other's faces one more time. That was not the case.

A/N: Wow sorry to leave on such a cliff-hanger I couldn't help myself… next chapter coming sooner since it won't be a super long one, just wrapping up the main story. (Dw this story will have an extensive epilogue) Please send me your thoughts, I'm dying to hear from my readers!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	27. Chapter 27

**Warning: this chapter contains violence of a mild sexual nature. I recommend skipping anything that makes you uncomfortable.**

Anastasia moved so quickly that the trees she passed were reduced to a blur. Her body longed for a break, she's bled through the black cloth that temporarily stopped the bleeding. Anyone who laid eyes on her would surely perceive her as a madwoman, covered in splotches of dirt and her own crimson blood. Yet she refused to give in to these temptations fueled by exhaustion, unbreakable because of what motivated her.

She reached the cave that was full of Pinkertons. They could be heard complaining since their boss was elsewhere.

"I say we should've blown them up after what they did to Milton," said one agent with a deep voice.

"Ross says they need to be made an example of… I heard he was planning on hanging them all at once," responded a younger man.

Ana looks down the hidden hole. The Pinkertons who stayed behind were gathered in one area, digging through junk that didn't even belong to the gang. She debated her approach, sneaking in was dangerous and difficult. Shooting them was no safer. It occurred to her that she has a stick of dynamite in her satchel. This was not a kind approach but it's the only way. She lights the explosive, carefully tossing it next to a lantern.

"Oh shit!" shouted someone. A loud bang went off, smoke rising from the area of impact. Ana took a peek downwards. All of them were dead or dying. She gulped at the scent of flesh burning.

With no sign of any further threats, she climbed down the ladder. She treads carefully and hurriedly, brown eyes searching for the hiding place. A carriage with a few boxes underneath gets her attention.

"Real smart, hiding all this money under a goddamn wagon…" she mumbles to herself, pushing wooden crates that block the stash. The chest that contains so much treasure is surprisingly light when she pulls it out. She inserts the key, pushing up the lid. Her stomach drops when there isn't anything inside besides a money clip. They must have moved it before the train job. Dutch hadn't completely lost his sense of logic after all.

She kicks the useless box, feeling foolish and ashamed for wasting her time. All she could do now was return to her friends with nothing.

Ana left the cave to find her horse waiting for her. It was relatively strange since she hadn't whistled. She mounted it, heading for the hill Arthur and John climbed, thinking maybe she could catch up with them.

…

It was easy enough for her to follow their footsteps, they'd left a trail of dead Pinkertons. The sun would soon peak out from the horizon, teasing greenery of the light that's to come. She felt uneasy amongst the calm and quiet, the image of the battlefield they fled was so fresh in her mind. This night would embed itself into her soul, leaving a scar as a reminder of what she faced.

Then, the sound of struggle, shouting, and grunts. Ana began running towards the noise, hearing words spoken by an unforgettably venomous accent. Micah, it had to be him. This was more than an ordinary scuffle, it was a malicious brawl.

She turns a corner that reveals the scene of a fight taking place on a wide ridge. Bright orange flowers are flourishing on a patch of grass. Arthur is crawling, nearly beaten to death, wheezing with each breath he takes. Micah can barely walk as he struggles to follow him. Neither of them notices her presence. She raises her pistol, pulling the trigger the moment her aim settles on her foe. A clicking noise. Nothing leaves the barrel, she's out of ammo.

Micah turns around, revealing a gory sneer. His face is just as bruised and swollen as Arthur's. "There she is… I thought you did the smart thing and left these boys. But you wanted more, didn't you? Couldn't resist one last taste of me."

"You're right, Micah. I'm going to enjoy this, you rat," she answers, forming fists. She shifts her gaze to Arthur, who looks terrified for her safety since he is too hurt to help. "Stay down, Arthur. I'll handle him."

The world's size was reduced to a bottle in the brief seconds leading up to the fistfight. Micah charges first, his arrogance blinds him to the fact that he doesn't have his usual advantage. Ana dodges his attack, though he doesn't lose his footing.

"You should've kept quiet like a good whore! There ain't gonna be much of you left when I'm done. Maybe if you beg I'll let you keep your face, you always was one of the prettier ones," Micah says while grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her to the ground. The overweight beast pins her down, ripping open her blouse. She struggles with every limb to free herself, but he was too heavy for her.

"Fight me fair, you sick bastard," she growled, thankful she was at least covered by her corset. Micah lost track of his goal while he groped her breasts.

"I'm gonna make Morgan watch while I fuck you," he roughly whispered while pulling at the ties of her underclothing. During this distraction, she was able to slide her leg out from under him, kicking him forcefully right in his crotch. Micah fell to the side, crying out as he absorbed the trauma.

Ana got back up, sending repeated blows to his gut. Blood as dark as cherries is pouring from his mouth. Eventually, he grabs her leg mid-kick, pulling her back onto the rocky land. He smashed an elbow into the side of Ana's skull, the soft spot high on her temple. The move disorients her, causing sparks of light to appear in her vision.

Micah cackles despite suffering from pain of his own. "I got you good! Is that all you've got?" He gets her in a headlock, applying pressure to her windpipe. She fights back by taking his nearest finger into her mouth, biting it off with a powerful chomp. Micah screeches uncontrollably, releasing her and collapsing as he stares at where his index finger is missing. She spits the taste of iron from her mouth.

She was preparing to throw him off a cliff when she sees a tall figure in the corner of her eye. It was Dutch, stepping on the gun Arthur had finally reached. "It is over, stop this nonsense."

Ana feels something dripping down her forehead, she goes to wipe it, shuddering at the sight of red on her fingers. She feebly drops to her knees.

Arthur musters the strength to speak, there's sadness present in his voice. "Oh, Dutch. He's a rat. You know it, I know it… and Ana knew it first."

Dutch and Ana make eye contact, their emotions mixed between resentment and regret. "Why didn't you believe me?" she asks, a broken heart longing for closure.

He sulks, the lover inside of him still wanting to be with her. It was too late now. "Remember what you said about how fighting nature is like fighting gravity? Well, I suppose I'm tired of fighting, my dear girl."

She presses her lips into a tight line, severely disappointed by his answer. "Van der Linde, you stubborn man… if only it was that simple. That's the difference between good and bad. The men who fight their nature are the good ones, like you used to be, like you still can be. Are you telling me you've got no fight left?"

He doesn't answer, Micah speaks up. "They're both lying to you, talking crazy…"

"I gave you all I had, I did," Arthur whispers to his oldest friend, who appears as conflicted as ever.

Dutch moves to the damaged woman on her knees. He gets down to her level, cupping her face. "I hope you can forgive me someday."

She doesn't blink. "Leave this place, Dutch. You don't wanna know what I'll do if I see you again."

He reluctantly does as she says, abandoning Micah. The snake calls after him a few times, running in the opposite direction when there's no sign of him returning.

Then, Ana and Arthur are all that's left. She shuffles to his side, reaching for his hand. Their interlaced fingers fit each other like a glove. A glove that one forgets they have but are pleasantly surprised at the warmth it offers. She rests her cheek on his chest.

"We need to leave," he says softly and considerately, stroking her hair.

"Where?" she asks, listening to his slow heartbeat.

Arthur pictures everywhere he's ever been. They'd originally planned to go north, although the possibilities are now endless. A slight smile creeps onto his face. Dry, warm, bright, wild, and his true home. There's no place he'd rather be.

"West," he responds simply.

"Alright, get on up then. Daylight's burning, Morgan."

A/N: This chapter felt like therapy to me after watching Arthur die lol. I can't wait to write the epilogue, send me your comments and suggestions!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	28. Chapter 28

Seven years later…

"How much longer?" asks the little girl named Judith who sits between an aged Arthur and Ana.

Ana stifles an impatient sigh; her naïve child had been pestering her about the long ride to Valentine for the past hour. She couldn't fully blame her, they'd never spent this long on the road before. Their spread-out travel from west to east had nearly taken four months.

"I'll answer your question after you count every piece of grass in that field," she nods to an area of farmland that stretches out farther than the eye can see.

Her daughter groans dramatically, sinking into her seat. She climbs onto the back of their moving wagon to find something to entertain herself with, settling on playing with a wooden horse Arthur carved for her a few years ago.

Arthur chuckles, finding humour in the impossible task presented to such a young mind. "We're almost there, kiddo. Just hang in for a bit longer…" He lightly slapped the horses with the reins to speed up.

Ana readjusts herself to a more comfortable position. She glances at Arthur, who hasn't changed much despite time passing. His scarcely grown out dirty blond hair now has a few streaks of grey. Nearing the age of forty, his strength hadn't faltered. He was thriving compared to the days of illness that almost ended his life.

"You still set on Valentine?" she asks, scooting an inch closer to him.

"Of course, why? Not up to your fancy standards Miss Fetcher, or should I say Mrs. Callahan?" he asks jokingly. They were known as the Callahan family to strangers, which was pretty much everyone at this point. It was a decent alias until some locals questioned why Judith looks nothing like her supposed father. Ever since then, Ana used coffee grounds to match her daughter's dark hair.

"My standards flew out the window a very long time ago, Arthur. I guess staying there for a bit won't hurt. I'd just like to find someplace where they let girls into their schools… I heard they do in Blackwater."

He pauses at the recollection of a place he has no desire to return to. "Blackwater? You think that's safe?" he lowers his voice just enough to avoid suspicion from Judith, "having a price on your head ain't something that disappears into thin air. Last time I checked we're still worth at least twenty-thousand."

Ana huffs, feeling aggravated by his paranoia. It was his fear of being caught that kept them moving from town to town. "It's been seven damn years and they stopped chasing us five years ago. We need to stop running from the ghosts of our past eventually, Arthur. It's for my daughter's sake and you know it."

He peels his eyes off the road, narrowing them and turning to her. "You mean _our_ daughter. We've gone over this…"

She softens her tense expression, furrowing her brows with guilt. "Shit, sorry. It was just a slip of the tongue."

A high-pitched voice joins the conversation, obviously having overhead what was said despite their efforts. "Mama, did you just say shit?"

Ana looks back at her child with discipline. The girl was at the age where she absorbed everything like a sponge. "Be careful with your words, sunshine. Once they leave your mouth, they're gone forever. Now you best practice your reading, there's no proper place for illiterates amongst civilized folk."

It was nightfall by the time they reached Valentine. They rented a room at the local hotel which had been renovated since their last visit. Judith drifted off not long after being tucked into bed. Ana and Arthur escaped to the balcony overlooking the wholesome livestock town which left them both feeling nostalgic.

"Remember the day we caught you robbing some poor feller here?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

She smiles fondly, internally acknowledging that even though things went to shit, she still cherished the good times she spent with the gang. "I remember. He was a drunk bastard who turned out to be more trouble than he was worth. God, I was so in over my head back then. Just some silly girl who thought she was unstoppable…"

Arthur observed her moment of reflection, taking in each feature that made her quite the sight to anyone who cared to look. Many men desire her merely based off her delicate and pretty appearance, but those who saw beyond looks adored her charisma, determination and wisdom. She retained the beauty of her youth, appearing a bit younger than twenty-eight. Her hair was significantly longer than it used to be, she even wore skirts to appear more lady-like. They had to blend in, a woman in pants was still far from the norm.

"You sure was a spitfire who fancied danger. I'll never forget watching you jump off that burning tree in Rhodes… guess we've changed, probably for the better," he said as he gazed at the constellations that decorated the clear night sky. Although this area smelt mostly of farm animals, there's always been an indescribable feeling to the cool fresh air here that he enjoys.

"That's right Morgan. For the better."

Ana comfortably places her hand onto his that's loosely holding onto a worn-out white railing. She caresses his rough skin, thankful for how it warms her. The relationship between them had almost always remained purely platonic for Judith's sake. Arthur held the belief that Ana is waiting for her child's true father to return, though she's rejected that theory repeatedly. Besides, there was no privacy to explore physical chemistry. Yet, as if by some force of nature that refuses to yield, they often woke from dreams that involved each other on an intimate level. There was one occasion within seven years when they shared a kiss, it was just before Ana discovered her pregnancy and right after Arthur was determined tuberculosis-free. It was an unspoken memory that lingered.

…

There was a constant downpour that night, forcing their venture west to be delayed. Ana and Arthur took shelter inside their cozy tent, passing a bottle of whisky back and forth as Arthur sloppily counted what money they managed to escape with.

"Five hundred, that's all," he stated, locking the box where they kept their savings, "we gotta make it last till we can find work." He dwelled, wondering if he counted correctly while drinking.

Ana took a quick swig of the smooth liquor. "Whatever you say, old man. Now help me finish this bottle, the Pinkertons won't be looking for us in this storm." She spoke slowly, the drink was doing its job. It was better than drowning in her own worries and sorrows, she figured.

He took the drink from her, taking a significantly larger gulp and coughing from the burn. "Who you calling an old man? Sorry to break it to you but you ain't a spring chicken no more. You're a grown woman, you best start acting your age."

She overexaggerated an eyeroll. "You sure know how to woo a lady."

Arthur smirked smugly, clearly pleased with his response before saying it out loud. "Oh, so you're a lady now? When did that happen?"

Without any sign of hesitation Ana punched his arm playfully. "Arthur Morgan and his way with words, how will I ever remain chaste around such a lovely fella?" she asked, performing the role of a southern belle.

He chuckled, entertained by how silly she acts while buzzed. "Cute. Very Cute. Just know I'm laughing at you, not with you."

She gasps dramatically at his insult. "And there goes my heart, split in two." Her act is over once she bursts with giggles, falling onto her bedroll.

He scoots to her side, pulling a blanket over her. "Uh-huh, now get some rest. We've got a long day ahead of us."

The kiss wasn't one of lust or grand passion, just pure human instinct. As Arthur was putting his best friend to bed, they locked eyes, sharing the same curiosity. She inched closer, inviting him to do the same. He leaned in hesitantly, their foreheads barely touching. Finally, they kissed. It was soft and slow, providing comfort to their lost souls after hardship. The world fell away in that instant, nothing mattered except the newfound feeling of soft lips. They said goodnight and never spoke of it again.

The next day…

"Mama! Wake up mama!" Judith shouts at the top of her lungs. My eyes shot open, searching for her. She's standing at the edge of our bed with a conniving look on her face.

I rub my temple, groggy from a rude awakening. "Why in god's name are you yelling?"

A cruel smile emerged on her round face. I swear sometimes this child acts like the devil possessed her. She probably inherited it from me, considering I was quite the trickster during my youth, though more self-controlled because of my strict upbringing. Survival before love was my mother's mantra.

"Arthur said I could yell if you wasn't up in ten minutes!" she showed me a familiar pocket watch. Of course, they teamed up on this one. At least she's smart enough to keep time.

"I'm sure he did. Now give me a minute to get dressed, then we'll see what work we can find." With a heavy heart, I rise from the soft sanctuary of pillows and sheets. I dress myself in a navy dress with a lace collar, braiding my hair and giving my teeth a thorough brushing. Arthur left behind a mug of coffee with a note, I sip while reading his message.

 _Found work at the stables, pays enough. I heard the general store is looking for a shoe shiner, maybe you and the girl could give it a try._

 _P.S. sorry for leaving Jude to wake you, wish I was there to see you looking all angry._

 _See you tonight,_

 _Your loving, handsome husband Arthur_

I audibly snort at his signature. If it weren't for his sense of humour, I might've gotten tired of him by now. Something tells me not to dispose of his note, I slip it into my pocket.

"Let's get a move on sunshine!" I say enthusiastically as we exit the hotel, heading for the store across the street. It smells of tobacco and cheese inside, not an ideal combination.

A bearded, chubby man with a stained apron raises his eyebrows at me. "How can I help you ma'am?" he asks politely. His kind eyes don't match the rest of his appearance.

"I heard you're looking for a shoe shiner? The girl and I could do the job easily." Jude smiles joyfully, pressed against my skirt. She was friendly yet dependent on me to speak for her around strangers.

The storeowner examined us. "She old enough to do it proper?"

I nod assertively. Young she was but hard work has seeped into character, it's all she's ever known growing up with me and Arthur.

He combined a shrug and nod, accepting my answer with indifference. "Alright, I'll try you out for a day." He reached underneath the counter, revealing a pair of black leather gloves and a unique cloth. "Your station is set up out front. Fellers know where to go so don't bother with advertising."

"Thank you, sir," I respond, picking up the materials before going to work.

The hustle and bustle gave Valentine a lively personality. People never stopped working in these parts, until night came and the saloon was packed with drunks. My day was occupied by small talk with strangers and trivial work. Jude acted as my assistant by wiping down the stool between customers. She even managed to sustain her complaints of boredom for a few hours. By the time evening came, my fingers were sore and my knees bruised. The shopkeeper paid me a satisfactory amount, asking for me to return tomorrow morning. I was sure to scrub the dirt from my hands before returning to our room for dinner. Arthur was waiting, a cigarette between his lips and boots on the table when we arrived. Three bowls of veggies and meat were steaming with mouth-watering delight.

Jude runs with excitement towards the dinner table. "Arthur! Arthur! Ma and I made money cleaning boots! They smelt like shit."

Arthur looks at my disapproving expression before responding. "Don't you forget what your Ma says 'bout that word. Eat up before it gets cold kiddo." He pats her gently on the head, standing as he redirects his attention onto me. "Good day?"

I take a seat at the edge of our bed, he joins me, our knees touching. "We did just fine. And how was my loving, handsome husband's day?"

He beams amusingly. "More or less the same, just fine." We move in closer, pressing the side of our temples tenderly against each other. It was our way of thanking one another for our efforts. I shut my eyes, wishing we could sleep the night away starting now. Eventually, we take our places at the table, eating quietly between yawns.

Nothing is said until Judith forwardly asks a question. "How long we staying here?" She absentmindedly pushes a carrot back and forth with her fork.

I swallow my mouthful. "Not forever, why? You don't like it here?"

She lifts her right shoulder, not quite frowning nor smiling. "No... it's pretty here. How come we never stay in one place, like normal people do?"

My heart sinks. I've always expected her to realize that we live differently than others. Arthur comes to my aid, placing his hand onto Jude's small wrist. She looks to him with innocent brown eyes.

"Your Ma and I… we didn't always make the right choices, then you came along, and we changed so you could have a better, honest life. Sure, it's an unusual lifestyle compared to the way most folks live. But it's our normal, that's all that matters."

Arthur's words must've cheered her up, she goes back to eating. "One day we'll have a place to call home, sunshine… as long as you eat that carrot" I add.

She sticks her pink tongue out at me before shoveling the carrot into her mouth, making a disgusted expression as she chews. We laugh together, spending the rest of our meal talking about our day like a real family.

Two weeks later…

Another day of routine started off with the community rooster crowing at dawn. Arthur's side of the mattress was empty, I got up swiftly with plans for a quick wash before Jude woke up. We'd adapted to the early bird mentality with ease. My sense of awareness was fogged by my sleepy state, literally dragging my feet towards the bathroom. The soothing sound of water went over my head as the door creaked open. What I saw next was something no woman could un-see. Arthur. Naked. Bubbles. My jaw dropped. His ocean-like eyes enlarged with boyish embarrassment. It's hard to tell if the warmth or my presence caused his cheeks to develop a rosy shade.

"The hell?! Fetch- Ana! Ain't you ever hear of knocking?" he scrambles to cover himself until realizing the bubbles are his savior.

I smirk mischievously, shutting the door behind me. "Well, well… Arthur Burton Morgan likes to bathe in bubbles, never would've guessed such a big tough guy cares about being squeaky clean. Is this how you keep your hair so soft?"

He sends me a deadpan stare, not flinching as I sit myself down on the edge of the tub. "Now you're mocking me for being clean? Your teasing has hit an all-time low," he snaps back light-heartedly.

Something about seeing his soaked biceps and slicked back hair enthralls me. My lonesome body takes control, dusting off my flirtatious ways. "Uh-huh, don't play coy, I know you find it funny or you wouldn't be playing along. Now let me help you." I wet a bar of soap, putting some muscle into scrubbing the unreachable area of his back. A small sound of pleasure naturally leaves his mouth. I use my hands to massage the lathered foam onto his strong back. He sighs with relief as I focus where he's most tense.

"That uh… feels real nice Ana, but we've got places to be," he mumbles as if he's unsure of where he is.

"We sure do," I remove my hands from his skin, "see you later, Morgan."

I leave him to finish his cleansing, making a mental note to bathe after dinner. Jude and I conduct business as usual, shoe after shoe, man after man. Sometimes I can barely recall the faces I see within a day. A middle-aged worker approaches me just before closing time.

"Can you squeeze in one more darling?" he asks with a thick accent. If only I could tell him no, though that wouldn't be good for the storeowner's reputation.

"Sure, take a seat," I motion to the chair. He flops onto the wooden seat, showing off his boots which are covered in dry mud. I kneel, using a scrubbing brush to remove excess dirt.

He clears his throat, preparing to speak. "So… where are you and the girl from?" he asks, revealing his crooked smile to us.

I look down, feeling uninterested after a long day. "West."

"And what's a western girl doing here with no husband to provide for her?" His tone is harsh and intrusive like his intentions are foul.

My head jerks up, wanting nothing more than this conversation to be over. "Look sir, I don't mean to be rude, I'd just rather keep my private life to myself."

He leans in, narrowing his vision. "Wait… I know you, lady. You been here before, ain't you?"

A moment of uncomfortable hush descended upon us. My heart thumps against my chest, an impulse to punch him runs through me. I manage to calm myself with a shaky breath. "Nope, first time in these parts." I hastily finish shining his shoes, yet he doesn't move.

"No, I know you. You're the damn whore that robbed me years ago! The law was looking for you, wasn't they? I could use that money." He lunges at me, going for my neck. Jude runs off, panickily calling for Arthur. The violent side of me breaks free, striking him powerfully in the gut. Motherhood hadn't stripped me of my ability to fight back. He collapses, groaning, I take the opportunity to flee for the stables. Arthur holds Jude's hand as they speed walk towards me.

"What's going on?! Are you alright?" Arthur questions with concern written all over his face.

"I'm fine. Some feller recognized me, was talking about turning me into the law. We need to leave right now."

Arthur says nothing, we both know the drill. We flee to our room, speedily packing our belongings. There's no trace of us left within a few minutes. Arthur pays the hotel manager to keep quiet about our sudden departure. Then, we leave Valentine with no remorse, agreeing that Blackwater will be our next destination.

A/N: A pretty interesting start to the epilogue, I think! Just something to keep in mind for readers: Arthur is a bit younger in this, in the game he would've been 43, but he's like 38 instead. And yes, I'm not revealing who Jude's real father is just yet :)

What do you think of Judith? Does she remind you of John or Dutch? Also, anyone else loving Ana and Arthur's chemistry?

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	29. Chapter 29

**Warning:** this chapter contains sexual content that's a bit more detailed than previous chapters.

The sun beats down on us, heat loosening my aching body and making my face shine. Blackwater was in our sights, smaller from a distance. A new city, another fresh start and more reasons to tread carefully. The constant moving was tiresome, still, we found ways to stay positive. Jude hums a sweet lullaby from the backseat while Arthur navigated the roads and I observed fellow travelers. We've been on high alert since the incident in Valentine.

"I got a letter from Sadie, feller said it's been sitting in the postal office for a while. Guess she must've sent it after you wrote her before heading east," Arthur says, prompted by the empty road.

I perk up, anxious to discover what our old friend had to tell us. We've stayed in contact for the past few years after she tracked us down, supposedly shocked since she heard Micah killed us both. "We ain't heard from her in six months, let me see!"

Arthur passes me a wrinkled piece of paper; my eyes move faster than I can read.

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Callahan,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well my friends. Funny that you happen to be returning east since my line of work is based out of Blackwater. Please come find me at the saloon, we've got plenty of catching up to do._

 _Looking forward to meeting little Judith. She looks like her Mother from Arthur's drawing._

 _Your friend,_

 _Sadie Adler_

A thrilled smile spreads across my face. All the distance between us prevented a face to face meeting from becoming a reality, now our isolated family could welcome someone well-known. "She's in Blackwater! Oh Arthur we gotta pay her a visit," I turn back to Jude, "you're finally gonna meet your aunt Sadie, ain't that just exciting my dear?"

She answered with a cheerful nod. Arthur grins knowingly, clearly having read the letter before me.

"It'll have to wait till tomorrow, my ladies. It's safer to camp outside the city then head in at first light when things are quiet," he pulls our wagon to a stop underneath a matured tree. He lifts Jude onto the ground before offering me his hand. I take it even though I'm quite capable of making the jump.

We work as a unit, setting up our tent and campfire, a task I'm all too familiar with at this point in my life. The setting sun casts an orange glow across the dry land. Arthur passes around salted beef and canned veggies for dinner. We sit in a circle of small stools.

"What's my auntie Sadie like?" Jude asks me, a spoonful of peas lingering near her mouth.

I watch the flames dance, remembering the blonde woman who I admired during my younger days. "She's a good person, tough with a soft heart for people she trusts."

She puts down her food, twirling one of her curls between her small fingers. The girl could never manage to stay still. "Sounds like you, Mama."

Arthur nods at her observation. "You're too smart for your own good," he adds.

Jude lifts her chin, smiling from the gratification of praise. "Since I'm so smart can I stay up later tonight?" She asks him, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes. Arthur points to me since he's never been good at saying no to her. Saying he has a soft spot for her would be an understatement.

"Rules aren't made to be broken, only changed when I say so missy. Practice your reading then it's bedtime," I state with a stern look on my face. Jude pouts, sulking while kissing us both on our cheeks before going inside the tent.

Arthur chuckles once she's gone. "I don't think staying up one night will kill her, Ana."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "We let her do it once and we'll never hear the end of it. It's better this way, trust me."

He lifts his hands in good-natured defeat. "You know what's best, as always."

My temper flares up at his comment. "As always? You got something on your mind?" I lean forward, placing my dinner on the ground. Arthur gets up, wiping dust off his knees before tending to the dying flames. He doesn't return my stare.

"You just have the final say on most things is all I'm saying. Nothing to get worked up about," he says passively. His lack of emotion irritates me further.

"Arthur, we spent years in the west because that's where you wanted to go. You and me," I point between us, "we're a team. Don't you make no mistake on that matter."

He gets up, waving me off. "Sure. I'm hitting the hay."

I push myself up, blocking his path and pressing my palm onto his chest. "I know you have mixed feelings about Blackwater… there's a lot of history here that we ain't revisited for quite some time. If it's bothering yo-"

"Enough talk, I don't wanna hear it," he snaps defensively. We stand, merely inches apart, breathing tensely. Arthur's features soften once anger passes through him. He takes my wrist, looking down as he speaks more calmly. "All them years of running and our sins never truly leave us. Being here… guess it serves as a reminder of the mistakes I made."

I frown slightly, understanding exactly what he means. "I get it. I know we don't talk about it much, but if you need to…"

He shakes his head, looking me in the eyes. "No… you and the girl mean everything to me now, the bond we share… I would surely kill and die for it."

I place my free hand over his, taking half a step closer. "Let's hope we can keep the killing to a minimum and avoid any kind of dying."

A low, breathy laugh leaves his nose while squeezing our now conjoined hands. We both seem a bit reluctant to release each other. The way his lips curve into a gentle smile makes me feel strange. If I thought hard enough, I could imagine what it would be like to feel his mouth against mine. These fantasies of him visited my mind on the occasional lonely night, but now they are constant. As Judith grows older, and less in need of continuous care, I can't help but wonder if we'll have the chance to be something more than friends. My curiosity gets cut off when Arthur kisses my forehead, a downright nonsexual act. It sinks in that Arthur may feel nothing but brotherly love for me.

"Come on girl, we best get some sleep," he says warmly, the rumble in his voice rouses me like a beast stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Seven years without being properly touched by a man made my knees weak at the thought of what Arthur was like in bed. My eyes linger on his physique as I follow him inside.

 **The next day…**

Arthur, Ana and Judith walk the streets of Blackwater, appearing no different than most young families. A few women stare at Arthur as he passed by, sparking interest from fancy ladies who aren't accustomed to such masculinity.

Ana found their admiration amusing. "You're turning some heads, pretty boy," she comments, guiding her daughter through a new environment.

Arthur scoffs at her absurd remark. The women here weren't exactly appealing to him. He'd always preferred the independent type, though Mary was an exception. "I have no illusions about my looks, they're probably just scared of me or somethin'."

Jude speaks up from in-between them. "If Ma thinks you're pretty you should listen to her. She's always right."

His heart melts at the little girl's kindness, an attribute she'd inherited from her Mother. "Why thank you, sweetheart… now where is that saloon?" An answer to his question appears when they turn the corner. The establishment appeared to open with few customers at this hour. Ana squints, spotting blonde hair through a foggy window. She speeds up, darting across the road and bursting through the doors. Sadie is sitting at a clean table with a fresh bowl of stew in front of her.

Ana sneaks up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Got room for three?" she asks jokingly.

Sadie whips her head around, looking annoyed until she sees who's invading her personal space. She nearly jumps up, embracing the woman who was practically a girl the last time they saw one another. "Ana! I was gonna stab you, it's good to see you!" Arthur walks over, ready to take his turn greeting Sadie. They hug briefly, patting each other's back. "And Arthur, old age treating you well my friend?" she asks teasingly.

"Awh can't a feller age gracefully? Our girl thinks I don't look a day past thirty!" He looked down to Jude, who was eager to introduce herself.

Sadie got down to her level, sounding kinder than usual. "Hi there sweetie, I'm Sadie. I used to know your folks."

Jude stuck out her hand confidently, exchanging a handshake with her new aunt. "My name is Judith Susanna Callahan. My Ma says you're a good person, so we can be friends."

She smirked with delight at such a spirited child. "I'd like that ma'am. You folks hungry? They got decent meals here."

Arthur eyes the steaming bowl, hungry for a real meal. "We are indeed. Come on Jude, let's get something to eat." The child followed him closely to the counter. Ana and Sadie happily took their seats.

"You're looking well. I like that bounty hunter getup, suits you real well Mrs. Adler." Ana nudges her, impressed by how put together she was.

Sadie returns her complimentary expression. "Why thank you, and you've become a proper lady it seems… wasn't your hair red?" she asks, gawking at her tamed curls.

Ana nods honestly. "Uh, yes…" she lowers her voice, "the colour was a dead giveaway to my identity. Coffee did the trick."

"Hmph smart…" she pauses, taking a better look at her friend's daughter from afar. "She yours alright." Another thought crosses her mind regarding who she resembles, but she bites her tongue.

"What you up to these days?" Ana asks, wanting to change the subject.

Sadie takes a quick sip of beer. "The usual, bounty hunting. Other odd jobs… look Ana, there's something you need to know…" she trails off uncomfortably, not taking a liking to passing on such vital news that has the potential to alter the stable lives that spent seven years being built. Ana stares at her, concern pausing her blinks. Finally, she blurts it out. "I saw John the other day. He thought you were dead all these years... he's got some land just outside of town."

Suddenly, a rush of emotions courses through Ana, staggering her breathing and reopening old wounds. The scar on her shoulder felt like it was burning. Her vision fogs, memories replay like a moving picture. A montage of love and loss causes her heart to ache, it's like she's twenty all over again. While she wasn't infatuated with him like before, the lack of closure between them made everything feel so raw. She pinches the bridge of her nose, wanting to compose herself before Arthur and Jude return.

"Abigail and Jack?" is all she manages to question.

Sadie presses her lips together, recalling John's similar reaction. Her gut was telling her that a reunion between the two could be harmful in the long run. "Alive and well… not with him."

Three hot plates are placed on the table along with the return of Arthur and Jude, who are digging in right away. Sadie shares her news with Arthur, who is relieved yet irritated to hear of John acting foolish enough that Abigail felt the need to leave him. Their catch-up is short since Sadie has a job to do, she promises to visit them again. They rent a room much bigger and classier than where they stayed in Valentine. There's even a separate space for children inside their suite.

 **That night…**

Ana was fresh out of the bath by nightfall. She was thankful for some peace after tucking Jude into bed, the girl being thrilled to have her own space for once. Arthur was leaning on the back of their large bed, reviewing how much money they made in Valentine and noting the day's events in a brief journal entry. Ana returned to their space after brushing her hair and putting on a comfortable nightgown. The sound of a piano made its way through the floorboards.

Arthur looks at the rejuvenated woman, attempting to keep his eyes away from her figure. "We could pay John a visit tomorrow you know…" he says, wondering what thoughts are going through her head.

She sighs slowly, sitting on the cushiony mattress. "You should go on your own. Showing up with Judith might be… a lot to process at once."

He nods, respecting her wishes while feeling glad she wasn't dying to see her ex-lover, although unsure if ex was an appropriate term. Circumstances tore them apart, yet this was expected by them throughout their relationship. Where Anastasia Fetcher and John Marston stood was not black and white, that's all Arthur could seem to grasp. He tosses his journal onto a night table when Ana crawls next to him, facing him with her legs tucked to the side. He watches her diligently, wondering why she's so close to him when there's more than enough space.

"Got something you wanna talk about Fetcher?" he asks, feeling paralyzed by his own nerves. She shrugs coyly, her eyes having an outwardly bold look in them. He shifts in his spot, attempting to subside the feeling of his blood flowing. "Come on Ana, you can't just… get all close like that."

She places her hand delicately onto his thigh, rubbing her thumb against the material of his grey pajamas. "Does it bother you? I'll stop if it does."

Arthur shakily fills his lungs with air, unable to even want her to stop. "Jesus Ana, what kind of game are you playing? It's just... just plain cruel. I'm a man, of course I don't want you to stop. We've got the girl to think about, us fooling around might not be what's best for her."

She slides her hand off his leg, feeling selfish for making a move on him. "Of course, you're right… we've just never had privacy like this before and I figured blowing off some steam could be good for us."

He sat up, not wanting her to leave his side just yet. Despite all his reservations and willpower, Arthur was still a man who had the same urges as anyone. It never took much for Ana to convince him on an idea. He scooted forward so their knees were pressed up against each other. "You better not make me regret this. I won't share you with anyone, I ain't Dutch or John. If this is what you want, be sure about it," he says roughly, setting up clear guidelines. Their world was shifting with each word that was spoken.

Ana was stunned briefly, yet self-assured in what she wanted from life. "Deal. Just you and me, Morgan."

A heavy pause settles. Lips impatiently waiting to kiss, hands ready to touch. Arthur is the one who leans in, whispering just as their mouths are about to connect. "Then you better keep quiet, girl." His mouth covers hers, pressing insistently. They're quick to feel the unclaimed regions of each other's body, his hands grabbing at the curve of her ass as she caresses his exposed chest. As nice as kissing felt, it would never be enough to quench the thirst they both felt.

After battling the stubborn buttons on Arthur's union suit, there was nothing left to cover their bare flesh. He admired the soft swell of her breasts, fondling with just enough pressure to induce delight. They lay down, she pulls a blanket over his head, wanting to bury herself in a sanctuary with no distractions. The weight of Arthur on top of her causes her legs to spread open, giving him full access to what he wants. He lines himself up and slowly pushes in until his hips are in flush with hers. A steady groan leaves him.

Ana slaps him in the shoulder. "Wasn't you just telling me to keep quiet?"

Arthur smirks, looking down at the source of pleasure sheepishly. "I'm doing my best, ain't that easy when I'm this deep."

They chuckle silently, giddy with excitement. "Enough joking around Morgan, just get on with it."

He sends her a sarcastically confused look. "With what?

She rolls her eyes, digging her nails into his shoulder. "What do you think, you fool?"

"This would be a lot easier if you just told me…" he digs himself into the crook of her neck, planting tender pecks as he stays still inside of her. The teasing became borderline torture. She tightens herself around him, forcing him to stifle a moan. With that action he obliges, pushing himself in and out until reaching a fixed pace. The session was bound to be brief with his lack of any recent experience. Nevertheless, the ending was comparable to an ancient volcano erupting after ages spent withering away. Afterwards they collapsed, breathless and more than satisfied. They kissed until their lips and minds were numb, sleep came easily after such activities.

Ana hadn't quite experienced anything like Arthur before. He was loving as expected, keen to please and still managed to make her laugh. It's safe to say she's never felt this safe with anyone before.

A/N: So there's a lot to unpack in this chapter, reader insight is always appreciated! I tried to be realistic as possible with the sex scene between Arthur and Ana because I hate clichés where it's all sexy and rough. Let's be honest Arthur Morgan would probably be a nice guy in bed. Dutch on the other hand... LOL. Lord help me.

What did you guys think while reading that last scene? Too fast? True to their relationship?

And also, the discovery of John… where do you expect that to lead?

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	30. Chapter 30

I find myself walking north of Blackwater before the city awakens for another uneventful day of earning or spending money. Arthur and Jude were sleeping when I left, a strong determination drove me elsewhere. Obviously not wanting them to assume I'd up and left for good, I wrote a rather detailed note explaining where I was going and why. Beecher's Hope, where John lives. It's as if I made the decision in my sleep because I was ready to leave soon after waking. He deserved to hear the truth from me, not Arthur.

The space was difficult to find since there were no significant landmarks, just a broken fence with a path leading to a sad looking shack. As I got closer, I could see two men sleeping by a smoking campfire. A nervous knot twisted my stomach, my throat going unbearably dry. At no point during my walk did I anticipate anyone being home. The men sleeping outside become recognizable once I reach my destination. Uncle and Charles. What the hell are they doing here?

Charles must've heard me coming, he reaches for his bow, preparing to draw until his eyes settle on my face. I place my hand on my hip, smiling in a friendly manner. "Hello to you too, Charles."

He drops his weapon, ending stillness caused by shock. I'm quickly wrapped in his big arms for a friendlier greeting. "Ana Fetcher… I can't believe it. We just heard you were alive, where's Arthur?" He releases me to look for my long-time partner, seeming slightly disappointed to find no one. Meanwhile, Uncle is snoring in his deep state of slumber.

"He's alive and doing much better since you last saw him. I came on my own since I… was up early," I say, scratching the back of my neck while providing a slightly true explanation.

Luckily Charles doesn't seem to notice or care. "You two stuck together this entire time? How'd that go?" he asks curiously.

My closed-mouthed smile turns into a grin. "No complaints from me. We've gone straight… at least tried to and succeeded for the most part. How've you been?"

Charles breaks our eye contact, appearing uncomfortable with my question. "Uh, I've survived, which is good enough for me. I'm sure John wants to see you. He's sleeping inside." He points to the unstable cabin with no door. I can see feet sticking out from this angle. Charles squeezes my shoulder, giving us semi-privacy as he occupies himself with chores.

I swallow my fear, making my way to where the door would've been and leaning. John grumbles a few complaints at the sound of footsteps, rolling around on his thin bedroll. The young gunslinger I once knew has transformed into a working man. His hair is cut short, swept back from his forehead and he's grown a decent beard. He wears a red and white striped shirt that is slightly unbuttoned like he used to wear them. Some things never change. Finally, he opens his eyes just enough to see my shoes. He rubs them in disbelief, gawking at my face as if I'll disappear if he blinks.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Marston." The words belong to a different version of me, but they are still mine. I imagined saying something a bit less arrogant.

He pushes himself up, approaching me while breathing like there's only so much air left in this world. "This ain't a dream, right? Or are you some sort of lookalike?"

"Get over here and you'll find out." We carelessly crash into each other, John lifting me off my feet and holding me with strength, he's more muscular than I remember. Our prolonged embrace ends with him cupping my face momentarily. My cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling so hard.

"Anastasia fucking Fetcher, you're a sight for sore eyes. Arthur with you?" he questions, not bothering to check for anyone else.

I shake my head. "We're staying in Blackwater. Sadie just told me about you yesterday, I figured I owe you a visit."

He guides me to a coffee pot as we talk, stepping over Uncle who refuses to be disturbed by anything. "You sure did. I thought Sadie was talking crazy when she told me about you…" I take the cup he pours for me, we pause to sit on stools.

"You… you thought we were dead?" I ask, digging my heel into soil.

John presses his lips into a tight line, his eyes darkening with memories. "Arthur saved me that day, there was no way he could've made it out alive on his own. And when you didn't show at the meeting spot, we just assumed that you were, you know."

Unsolved guilt causes me to look into the steaming liquid in my hands. I remember everything from that day, especially leaving John to look for the gang's money. "I'm sorry. Some Pinkertons caught up with us on our way there. I should've written to you, but I didn't know where to look."

He touches my wrist, offering innocent comfort. "That's in the past… what about now? How've you been?"

His soft tone is unfamiliar though appreciated by me. I look to his face as I speak. "Alright, it's been a long seven years. I was lucky to have Arthur with me. How about John Marston? Or should I be calling you Jim Milton?"

He chuckles at my use of his alias, faintly bobbing his head as he thinks. "Good and bad. Abigail wasn't too happy with my behaviour, so she took our boy and left. I bought this place to build a real home and prove I ain't the same fool that I used to be."

My lips involuntarily part when he refers to Jack as his. The John I knew never admitted ownership of his son. "I'm real impressed, you're nearly a proper family man." I take a short breather before hesitantly continuing. "You two married yet?" I ask, trying not to sound awkward.

His brown eyes are full of conflict, I hope I didn't overstep. He takes back the hand he'd placed on me. "Not, uh, officially. What about you and Morgan? Or was he too much of a gentleman?" He smirks, lifting up the heavy tone of our talk.

My laugh fades when I remember why I'm here. "Seven years is a long time. Surely long enough to change the way you look at a person. John, there's something you should know…"

"What? Arthur knock you up?" he jokes, hiding whatever he's actually feeling with humour.

I stare him down until he realizes I'm serious. Neither of us is smiling anymore. "I've got a girl named Judith. She's seven," I state, attempting to strip my voice of all emotion. There's more to say but I can't muster the courage right away.

John's jaw drops, he shakily buries his face into his palms. I allow him to process the news in his own time. He lifts his chin, seeming desperate for an explanation. "Is she mine?" he asks, sounding frightened by anticipation.

"No," I whisper.

He jerks his head back, clearly cross with me. "Who then? Dutch? I thought you two weren't sleeping together near the end…"

I run my fingers through my hair, wishing there was an easier way to speak the truth. "We were, not as often…. she's got hair as black as a damn crow. I don't know what else to say."

He curses under his breath with a mixture of astonishment and resentment. "That bastard left you to die, then you were stuck raising his goddamn kid." I observe his clenched fists, the anger he's feeling is so fresh. I've been over it for years. Truthfully, I haven't felt hatred towards Dutch since I saw my baby girl for the first time. Motherhood softened me, at least my ability to forgive. As strange as it may seem, I could never despise the man that gave me my daughter.

I place my hand on John's back, patting him soothingly. "Don't get mad on my behalf. I was lucky, not stuck. Arthur is her father and I'm her mother. That's all that matters."

The tension dies down, John leans closer to me, I felt thankful that time didn't eliminate the bond we share. "I hated myself for so long, thinking I got you killed… I wish things turned out differently," he says, a confession that hurts to hear.

"We can't change the past, Marston."

He doesn't respond, instead reaching into his satchel and presenting me with a few photographs. I look down at the images of the gang casually posing for a group photo. The last polaroid is of me and him, laughing as we share a cigarette on a rock. Reverend Swanson took this photo when we were in Rhodes. The memory replays in my head.

…

"You ever gonna stop teasing me Fetcher?" John wheezed, exhaling smoke smoothly.

I lightly kicked his boot like a child looking for trouble. "Look I'm just wondering… what happens if you go in water? Ya squirm like a hooked fish or do you just instantly drown?"

He waved me off, throwing the finished cigarette onto the ground. "I don't know! Can't you be nice to me for once? I was real nice to you last night."

I punched him in the shoulder. "That niceness went both ways as I recall! How 'bout we just go for a swim and see what happens?"

"Go right ahead… I'll start by watching your technique. I'm sure I'll learn a lot," he leaned back onto the rock, supporting the back of his head.

"John Marston, I'll see to it that you learn how to swim before I die." He shut me up by pulling me on top of him, placing a kiss on my mouth.

…

I hand the photos back over to him, it's surprisingly difficult to look upon evidence of my old life. "That's a good picture. I hope keeping it hasn't caused you any trouble," I say, imagining what Abigail would think of her husband keeping souvenirs of his outlaw life.

John shrugs without much effort. "It ain't…. I was just thinking, if you want Arthur, you and uh Judith could come stay here... I could use the help, or a neighbour eventually."

The future was strikingly clear to me with his offer. A home for our family with people we could trust close by. It was the ideal setting to raise a child in, my brain nearly lit up with joy. "I like the sound of that. I'll be sure to ask Arthur."

"You do that…" John pauses mid-sentence, looking behind us with an expression I myself witnessed not long ago. "Speak of the devil, that you Arthur?!" he shouted, moving quickly to greet Arthur who must've followed me here after reading my letter.

"That scar ain't aged well, Marston. How's your head, still the same fool I reckon?" Arthur responded teasingly. I waved to Jude, who was holding his hand. I decided to let them have their moment while I woke up Uncle.

I give the old man a good kick in the back. "I swear I could've robbed you blind by now Uncle! Get up!" My voice is laced with laughter. He groans theatrically like I've just shot him.

"Ana?! Seven years and that's how you treat a sick friend? You ain't changed one bit, you cold-hearted bitch!" he snaps back with a pitch I can't take seriously. We hug fast before joining Charles, John and Arthur who were poking fun at each other like we're living in 1899.

"You boys meet Jude?" I ask, they respond with agreeable nods.

Uncle kneels down, offering a hand to my daughter. "Well hello there miss Jude. I'm Uncle… you can call me Grandpa Uncle if that makes sense."

She shakes his hand rapidly. "No thanks! I'll call you Uncle."

He chuckles goofily. "You sure look like a man I used to know. Boy, he had quite the mouth on him, just like you-" He's stopped by Arthur, who picks him up, shoving him to the side.

"That's enough outta you! Get us some coffee or something." He dismisses the rambling fool, who we all love for some unknown reason.

Arthur sends me a displeased look. "You should've woken me up."

"You needed the rest," I answer, thinking back to what we did last night. We warm up to each other instantly, our new relationship making it difficult to keep my distance from him.

Charles nods to a whole carriage full of building supplies. "We better get started. There's more than enough work for each of us."

He was right. We spent the whole day starting to build the foundation of John's pre-built home. I changed into jeans since skirts were no use out here. Jude fetched us water and read while we sawed what felt like a thousand boards. We were filthy with dust and sweat by sunset. Conversation wasn't forced due to exhaustion, instead passing out under the starry sky.

 **Two weeks later …**

"It gets easy if you practice, Jude. Draw, inhale, aim and exhale when you release the arrow. Go on," Ana says to Jude, who is begrudgingly staring at the tiny bow Charles had made for her. She pulls back the string, using the breathing tactics her mother had recited more than once. The arrow without a spearhead whizzes past her target, she throws her weapon to the ground.

"This is dumb Ma! I'll never hit anything." Feeling frustrated by failure, she kicks dirt with her toe, dust flies into the air.

Ana sighs calmly, understanding that children have little patience for learning. She picks up the bow. "Watch me, look at my stance. See how still I am? You're too fidgety." She releases the arrow, it hits the bullseye like gravity had guided its path. She'd kept up target practice throughout the years for protection, and partly for her own enjoyment. "Skill doesn't come easily to anyone, sweetie. You've got to work for it, just like me and Arthur."

Jude crosses her arms, a truly stubborn act that was entrenched into her personality. "I get it, you don't need to explain. Can I go read?"

Ana pats her on the head caringly. "Of course you can. Just… promise me you'll give the bow another try soon. You'll be hitting the bullseye in no time, I'm sure of it."

"I will Mama." They exchange a small smile before parting. She proudly watches her little one skip happily to her favourite reading spot underneath a shady oak tree. It was bewildering to wonder how she raised such a well-read child. Frankly, Dutch had impacted Jude without being present in her life, though Ana would never admit this.

Arthur approaches the woman who's clearly lost in thought, he wipes a layer of sweat off his forehead before resting his hand on her lower back. "How's our girl?"

She looks up at him with wideset eyes. "You know her, stubborn as ever."

"Why don't you and I go into town? Ain't been much time for us to talk lately, I asked the boys to watch Jude." He nods towards Blackwater. It was true, building a house took up most of their day and there was always somebody else around. They were lucky to share a kiss without being spotted.

"That sounds lovely. Let's go on horseback."

They were riding on a horse towards the city within seconds since time alone was a luxury they valued. It was dry and sunny, local women were fanning the heat from their cheeks. Arthur and Ana scan the area, not knowing where to start.

"What do couples do in town?" she asks, eyeing a portrait studio.

Arthur jokingly signals to the hotel where they slept together. "Well we've checked off that option"

She smacks him in the bicep. "You're a pig! Be a gentleman for once. Let's get our photo taken like we're some fancy folks who like looking at themselves."

He agrees, offering her his forearm as they head for the small building. A French gentleman with a moustache was adjusting his camera when they walked in. "Bonjour! What a lovely American couple you are. Have you come to get your photo taken? What am I saying, why else would you be here… strike a pose just over here," he points to a staged area, enthusiastically preparing his equipment. Arthur and Ana exchange a humoured look since they couldn't get a word in, still, they follow his instructions.

"Um, should I pose with my gun or somethin'?" Arthur asks the photographer.

The French man gasps. "What?! Your gun?! When I left France, my mother said I'd be shot, she was right. No gun, just embrace your woman like I'm not here, no kissing though, I don't do sensual photos."

Arthur wraps his arm around her waist, standing slightly behind her. A blinding flash strikes their eyes unexpectedly. "Beautiful! Just wonderful! Wait here while I develop this," the photographer exclaims, leaving them momentarily.

They burst with discreet laughter, taking each other's hands as a way to calm themselves. "I should've taken my gun out, he would've been on the first boat back to France."

"We struck a pose like the beautiful American couple we are. You bet I'm framing that shit!" Ana responds, tears of joy blurring her vision.

The exuberant man returns, handing over a black and white photo, Arthur pays him more than he charges. "Please come again! When the woman is pregnant perhaps?" he calls out as they leave. Now that he's out of earshot, they let out their carefree amusement.

"You heard the man, Arthur, you better get me pregnant so we can keep him in business!" She says loudly enough that strangers send offended looks their way.

Once they recover, Arthur takes her hand, taking the lead towards the local theatre. "Come on, I'm treating you to a moving picture, my lady."

The cinema is much showier on the inside, with red and gold decorations covering the walls. A young man stands inside a ticket booth, dressed in a uniform that matches the environment. He looks bored out of his mind when Arthur approaches him. "Hi, two tickets for… what's playing?"

"Love for outlaws. It's a good one, feller in New York made it," he answers, pointing to an outlandish poster with an over-the-top handsome cowboy on it.

Nevertheless, Arthur purchases the tickets. They choose seats far in the back to avoid the other talkative customers. The film starts playing, showing a brave gunslinger who fights crime instead of robbing. Women swoon over him but he loves another who rejects his lifestyle. It's laughable to people who actually have experience with the outlaw life.

"Wait, how is he an outlaw if he's killing the bad guys? Don't that make him a lawman?" Ana whispers into his ear, puzzled by the contradictory plot.

Arthur smirks at her point. The rest of the audience was taking it so seriously. "You're right... since when are cowboys so pretty? Most of 'em is rough and ugly."

They ignore the foolish story and focus on the images. He puts his arm around her shoulders midway, cuddling like a pair of teenagers on their first date. The show didn't last long, they were back on the street with an evening sun glowing onto them. It was perfect, unlike a majority of their lives.

"We should be getting on," Ana says, wishing they could waste away the night in a hotel bedroom.

"Let's go for a walk before we head back," Arthur responds, a plan in his back pocket.

The pair climbs a hilltop overlooking a vast lake. Calm water creates a soothing sound and a serene atmosphere. Ana deeply breathes in the fresh air once they reach the top. "I could get used to this," she says, thinking out loud. When she turns back, Arthur is on his knee with a nervous look on his face.

"Before you tell me to get off the damn ground, just hear me out, Fetcher. I… I love you, been feeling this way for a long time… too long to admit. I didn't think it was possible, didn't think you'd want me, didn't think I'd end up this lucky despite the life I lived. I don't want this to be a dream, it's gotta be real. Marrying you would be as real as it gets, I reckon." He pulls out a golden band with a red gem, presenting her with the stunning object. "This ring has been with me for too long. It should be yours, will you have me?

She was paralyzed for a moment, overwhelmed by emotion and how loved she felt. Everything was clear, Arthur had been by her side for so very long, when she was growing into a better version of herself and when she was a lawless monster who harmed innocents. It's not as if he was pining after her, he never asked for more than friendship. That's what made her love him.

"Yes… I guess that's all I'm supposed to say, right? Oh! No big ceremony please, just you, me and some feller from a courthouse. I've never been one for weddings."

Arthur laughs with relief. "Thank god. I hate dressing up."

 **Three months later…**

Life was coming together for Ana. She was happily married to Arthur a couple of weeks after his proposal. Jude was thrilled to witness her parents become one, yet she would argue they were before some government official signed off on it. They abandoned the name Callahan, Ana proudly took on the name Morgan, as did her child. Anastasia Morgan, it was a bit off-putting since so many referred to her as Fetcher. Charles tagged along since they needed a witness and he was the first to offer.

Much had changed within three months, John finished building his ranch with the help of a small crew. Abigail and Jack returned, stunned and overjoyed by all the friendly faces that greeted them. Ana and Arthur had built themselves a small cabin next to the Marston's home. They were a community run by hard work and friendship. Jack and Jude got along quite well, they would trade books and play with Rufus, a golden lab with a sense of adventure. All was as it should be, however, something plagued Ana's mind at night, a fear of peace being disrupted. Her Mother used to say that all good things must come to an end. She prayed nothing would destroy the life she built.

The workday had ended as everyone gathered for a late dinner on the porch, pretending that Abigail's stew didn't taste all that bad. Sadie dropped by for a meal as she did on a weekly basis.

"Ma, can Jack and I look at the stars once we finish eating?" asks Jude, playing with the carrots in her bowl.

"If Abigail says yes and you eat that carrot then that's fine with me," she answers, spotting her picky habits.

"Sure, don't stay out too long," Abigail adds.

Jack and Jude chowed down the rest of their meal with excitement. They were often stuck with bedtime or listening to boring adult conversations. "Thanks Ma and Mrs. Morgan!" Jack shouts as he tries to keep up with his fast friend.

"It's good to see those two getting along so well," Arthur says to everyone. Each parent nods in agreement. They were quite the pair, Jack being close-minded while Jude pushed him to take risks, like two elements clashing to create something ideal.

"Now that the kids are gone, there's something I gotta say," Sadie says after being relatively quiet. It didn't come as a surprise that something was bugging her. Ana notes how there's a fire in her eyes. "I know where Micah is."

A/N: This was such a happy chapter to write! I think you can tell how much John has matured. Also, I hope no one thinks the proposal was rushed, I wanted all the good things to happen at once since I'm sure you can guess what's coming next chapter. I'm looking forward to seeing how everyone reacts to the final chapter of this fic!

I'm planning a sequel, feel free to send me your suggestions. And please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


	31. Chapter 31

"No! Leave Micah be, all of you!" Abigail spits out her words, switching moods faster than a blink of the eye. There's a moment of uncertainty amongst old friends, who are all picking which side to take in this debate. Ana looks to John, knowing they'll be on the same page while ignoring the pointed stare Arthur is sending her way.

She dismisses Abigail's demand with a monotoned question. "Where is he?"

"You remember that rat, Cleet? He's in Strawberry, hiding from the law after killing some poor lady. I figure he'll know where that bastard is hiding. I'm leaving tonight, so you all best decide if you're coming or not," Sadie answers with little patience. She stands suddenly, showing how urgent of a matter this is.

It occurs to Ana that she hadn't returned to her birthplace in over a decade. She wondered if the small cabin she grew up in was still standing.

"Revenge is a fool's game, Sadie… you don't gotta do this! The law will get Micah eventually," Arthur comments forcefully. He hated Micah just as much as everyone else, yet he felt no urge to track him down. He was at peace with himself, nothing would change that.

Sadie glares at him with the intensity of a widow fuelled by rage. There was no fighting her on this, or anything really. "Ain't no talking me out of this. Now, who's coming?"

Charles gets up, heading for his horse. "I'm coming," he says nonchalantly. He wanted nothing from this, he was just unwilling to let a friend do this alone.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll ride with you." John speaks decisively before disappearing inside to gather his equipment. Abigail follows, begging him to stay. Her pleading gets louder with each sentence.

Sadie silently waits for Ana and Arthur to give her an answer. She opens her mouth to speak, but Arthur interrupts before she can say anything. He's calmer than Abigail as he tries to reason with his wife.

"I know what you're thinking, just hear me out before you decide. You can't throw this life away, not for Micah. We've got a girl to think about, she needs her mother, and I… I could sure use you, if that ain't clear by now." He leans over, placing his hand on her knee. The choice a better person would make was so tempting. She could stay, be a good wife and mother, pretending like the memory of Micah didn't haunt her at night. She was not the better person, despite years of trying. She remembered how Hosea once said you can never really leave the outlaw life. He was definitely right about that, and so many other things.

Sadie took this as her cue to give them some privacy, she waited by her horse, fiddling with her repeater as she attempted to zone out Abigail's cries coming from inside. Ana shifted herself closer to her husband, kissing his cheek tenderly. She spoke quietly into his ear, running her thumb across his scruffy jawline. "I won't get myself killed. I'm lucky, remember?"

Arthur takes her wrist, searching his mind for the right thing to say. "There's no such thing as luck. If this is what you need to do, then I won't stop you, but you gotta understand how much you're risking. If you die…" he stops midsentence, unable to get the words out.

"Nobody is dying, not today at least. Let me do the selfish thing, one last time. Then I'm all yours until we're an old married couple who can't stand each other."

He laughs gently, releasing her from his grip. They kiss as John bursts through the door, he glances at them, surprised at the loving action that was so different from his current situation. John hated the jealous feeling in his gut that lingered for only a moment.

Ana backs away, making a beeline for their cabin. "I'm coming!" she shouts, moving quickly. Once she's inside she pulls out a locked chest from underneath the bed she shares with Arthur. It contained her only remaining gunslinger outfit. Black flannel pants with a matching vest and a crisp white blouse, the clothes fit her like a glove. She armed herself with more than enough ammo and a single pistol. She finished off the look with a long braid and a leather jacket. It was finally time for this feud to end.

John, Charles and Sadie were waiting on their horses for her. Jack and Jude had overhead the yelling and looked quite confused as to what was going on. Ana mounted her horse, not wanting there to be a dramatic goodbye. Arthur lifted his daughter so she could reach her mother's hand. Jude looked up at Ana with doe eyes.

"Can I come with you Mama?" she asks sadly.

Ana smiles down at her, shaking her head. "Not this time. Learn how to shoot that bow then maybe one day…" she pauses, her smile fading from guilt. "Your Pa will take care of you while I'm gone. I love both of you." She let go of her daughter's hand, looking to the horizon.

"Let's go kill that son of a bitch then," John says, kicking his horse. They all follow, riding quickly towards their destination.

Ana doesn't make an effort to partake in the conversation during their ride, she's too focused on what's coming. John breaks her out of a silent spell. "You sure about tagging along?"

She rolls her eyes like she's twenty all over again. "Are you sure? Last time I checked scooping up animal shit don't count as target practice."

John huffs lightheartedly, he enjoys how her sarcasm hadn't softened with age. "I can still handle a gun better than most. Besides you know that's not what I mean."

"I know what you mean Marston and I'm sure. Micah should've died on that damn hill seven years ago… I was too weak, and others paid the price for my mistake." Ana had several dreams about viciously murdering Micah after the gang fell apart. She was stuck between stabbing or beating him to death. Punching the life out of him would be rather poetic since that's what he nearly did to Arthur last time they met.

Sadie looks back from ahead, suddenly curious of what went down that day. "Mind if I ask what happened on that 'damn hill'?"

Ana avoids making eye contact as she explains her side of the story. "Micah and Arthur kicked the shit out of each other. I showed up before it got real bad and… and Micah, he would've raped and killed me if Dutch wasn't there. Dutch didn't make things better or worse I guess, said a few things before walking away. Micah ran off right after that."

Everyone pauses, picturing the brutal scene as she retold it. "Dutch didn't say where he was going?" Charles asks, puzzled by how his former leader didn't take a side in the end.

"No. That doesn't matter, Micah is what matters," she answers, ending the exchange.

A realization abolishes John's filter, he blurts out a question. "Why the hell do you sound like you ain't all that mad at Dutch after everything he did to us… to you?"

Ana swallows nervously, he did have a point. "No offence but seven years feels a lot longer to a twenty-year-old. I've made my peace with all that… and Dutch wasn't right in the head back then. How can I blame him for that?" she asks even though she already answered her own question.

"Yeah and we all would be dead cause of him if we hadn't run off! You've lost your goddamn mind Ana, where's the ruthless fighter I used to know? She had so little sympathy for folks who didn't deserve it," John says spitefully. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"She ain't gone anywhere, trust me," she responds, refusing to be angered by him.

Something was shifting inside of her. She was beginning to lose the changed version of herself. A craving for violence was brewing like the perfect storm. Everything she'd known for the past seven years was fading into the distance, like a fog blurring her stable state of mind.

The hunt for Micah would alter the fate of many lives in many ways. Some consequences were obvious right away, others took their time before exploding in everyone's faces.

 **A few hours later…**

The ride to Strawberry was rather smooth despite a bit of rain along the way. Ana felt like she had travelled back in time as they entered the small town that hadn't changed one bit.

"Oh this is definitely Strawberry…" she mumbles to herself.

Charles gives her a confused look. "What? You been here before?"

She laughs unpleasantly. "Not just been here, lived just outside of town for fifteen years before my Ma died. Then I mostly travelled and came back here occasionally. I officially moved out when I was twenty, met the gang a few months after that..."

Charles smirks at her. "Makes sense. I guess a small-town girl might like the idea of running with a bunch of rough outlaws."

She chuckles at the accurate suggestion. "You're probably right. I didn't have much choice back then."

The four of them slow down as they get deeper into Strawberry, locals watch them suspiciously since they're obviously here for a reason.

"Let's leave our horses by the bride, then we find him," Sadie instructs. They all do as she says, then regrouping to figure out the plan. "Ana and I will take this side of town, Charles, John, you check the other side. We'll meet in the middle."

They split up, scanning every person they pass by. Ana holds the image of Cleet in her mind, recalling his ugly features to the best of her ability. In all honesty, she didn't remember him that well. She trusted that she would recognize him if she saw him

The two women had nearly reached the end of town when they heard John shouting after Cleet. They ran towards his voice.

Ana spots the skinny, dirty man running for his life. She bursts into sprint, moving faster than Sadie since she had a lighter jacket on. She throws herself at him, tackling him onto the muddy ground.

"Get off me you crazy bitch! I ain't who you think I am!" he screams at her.

Ana smacks him in the face, his cheek hitting the ground from the force she inflicts on him. He cries out like a scared boy.

"What? Don't remember us? Oh, I'm sure you do… use the tiny little brain of yours. Say my name you fucking rat!" She punches him again, demanding an answer.

"Wait! Your… your name is Ana, right?! We're old buddies, ain't no need for this." He puts his hands up, begging for mercy. He wouldn't find any amongst the four of them.

Ana gets up letting the others have at him. Sadie kicks him in the stomach before letting John take his turn.

John sends a powerful blow into his side, making Cleet groan in pain. "Now, where's Micah?!" he asks. It takes another few hits before he speaks.

"Wait! I ain't seen him, we fell out after he killed some girl," Cleet answers. A lie obvious to anyone who can hear or see.

Sadie sulks intolerantly, this repeated questioning felt like a waste of time. "You know what? I'm bored of this. Let's just hang the bastard."

"Good idea," John says, dragging the shrieking man up the hill and onto the gallows. Ana takes a seat at the edge of the wooden platform, her feet dangling in the air. She lets John and Sadie handle the parasite who means nothing to her.

Cleet continues his lies and excuses until John slowly pulls on the lever that's attached to the rope around his neck. He reveals the truth frantically as his life dangles by a thread.

"Stop! W-w-wait, wait… h-he's up in the mountains, up in Mount Hagen, I think. He's got a whole gang now. They're real bad men, doing bad things. Honest, please… I'm one of the good guys, like you all."

"Hang him," Sadie says, not falling for the act. John pulls the lever down after a few seconds of hesitation. The sound a person makes while being hung is not a pleasant one, something they don't stick around to hear. They head for their horses as a crowd gathers around the dead man, whispering while doing nothing to stop them from leaving. Ana found it strange how there was so much talk of civilization when people could be killed in such a brutal way. Her mind wandered back to the poetic words of her lost leader. She felt a longing for the life of fighting for freedom in a world that rejects those who refuse to follow the rules. At least Cleet deserved his fate, she thought.

They mount their steeds, kicking them into a gallop towards the road that leads to the mountains.

"It's a long ride. Let's finish this," Charles says.

"Micah, we're coming for you," Sadie adds, something everyone was thinking.

The sun is rising as they begin their journey. They move quickly, only taking a brief break to prepare for the fight ahead of them and have a meal. Few words are spoken, nothing needs to be said until they've done what they set out to do. Ana's determination doesn't falter, she doesn't care how many men stand in the way of her and Micah, she'd kill them all herself if that's what she had to do. It felt unreal to be this close to what she had pictured for so long, it would be like ridding the world of a true threat and personal enemy. She was practically nauseous from the excitement.

 **About one day later…**

Snow sparsely falls from a grey sky as we reach the path that will take us into the high mountains. A snowflake lands on my right hand. I observe its elegant details before it melts from my body heat. I count the bullets in the barrel of my pistol for probably the tenth time. Seven bullets, just like last time.

The closer we get to Micah the more I began to wonder if this is a mistake. If karma exists, all of us will pay the price of pursuing revenge somehow, or I won't be alive to see what happens after.

"We all ready?" Charles asks. "There's an old watchtower further up that they might be using for a camp."

It's too late now. I need to have faith in my choice to be here. "Of course," I say confidently.

A blaring shot echoes throughout the mountains, clearly coming from a sniper rifle. The vast area makes it difficult to pinpoint where it's coming from. Just our luck, it seems that Micah has gotten less reckless. We jump off our horses, moving into cover. I spot Charles on the ground, holding onto his leg with a pained expression. I drag him by his shirt's collar to a nearby rock. He looks slightly stunned that I was able to move him considering his weight.

"You okay?" I ask, keeping my head down as the shots keep on coming.

"Just about, go to Sadie and John!" he responds, motioning for me to leave him. I wait for the right moment to go to where John is taking cover. He pulls me closer by my arm when I reach him.

"Ever hear of keeping your head down!?" he asks with attitude.

"Are you really lecturing me while we're being shot at?" I ask in disbelief.

"Just like old times, 'Fetcher'."

"Would you two shut up and stay low! We gotta get closer to this bastard, we'll move up, rock by rock. Okay? Come on," Sadie shouts from nearby.

We run on her cue, spreading out so we avoid getting in each other's way. A bullet whizzes over my head just as I reach the next rock. My heart feels like it's going to burst. This really is just like the old days.

"You're a persistent bunch, guess you ain't here by no accident!" shouts the sniper, foolishly revealing his location. John runs out in the open, shooting him down from a decent distance. We wait a few seconds before returning to Charles, who's sitting in a puddle of his own dark blood.

"Shit," is what I say without a thought. He wasn't going anywhere on that leg.

"I'll… I'll be fine. Go on, move fast or they'll come down that hill and kill us all…" Charles' voice is laced with a helpless sort of pain masked by pride. I cower at the sound of his hyperventilation.

"I don't wanna leave you," John says, his eye fixed on the hill for oncoming attackers. There was no one yet, but they were surely coming soon.

"Just go! I'm just slowing you down at this point. Finish this, all of you," he says as we skeptically leave him. Now it's just the three of us running up this steep, snowy hill. My thighs burn from exertion. Once we reach the top, we're greeted by five not so friendly faces coming at us from multiple angles. Their overgrown hair makes them look like they haven't seen civilization in years, just the sort of men Micah would run with. I don't stop moving as I send three bullets into a man's chest. He collapses into a corpse, corrupting the pure white snow with the colour of death. I shoot another one as we're trekking through an area with deeper snow. I use John's footprints to maintain my speed.

"There's a camp there," John says, shooting at whoever spotted us approaching. I duck behind his legs to quickly reload.

"Too small for Micah. He probably spreads his men out to protect himself," I say, pushing myself back up to rejoin the fight.

"Micah runs with ten, maybe twenty men. We'll know his camp when we see it," Sadie comments.

The mountain path just keeps on leading us higher, like there's no end to men or space. We kill most of them without much difficulty. The air is getting thinner as we push on, Sadie wastes her breath by shouting various insults at Micah's men. She goes up ahead of John and me as if she's not risking her own life.

"My god Sadie wait for us!" I yell as she's about to turn a corner. Suddenly a man jumps off a small cliff, attacking her with a knife. The blade slices through her stomach effortlessly. John shouts something at the man stabbing her while we're simultaneously tackled by two other men.

A man's punch is undeniably strong, no matter how much or how little strength that man possesses. I felt that strength now in the form of repeated blows to my stomach. Fortunately, anger is all it takes to overpower someone, and I was surely pissed off at whoever was hitting me. I block his next punch by lifting my leg and kicking him off me. I grab my pistol, shoving the barrel into his mouth and firing. I ignore the gory mess it creates to shoot the man who's about to kill Sadie. John punches the life out of the last living attacker before helping me move Sadie to a safer spot.

My old friend is wincing with each step, acting like she isn't even close to dying. "You alright?" John asks while also out of breath.

"J-just fine, come on," Sadie responds with a weak, raspy whisper. We carefully sit her down by a rock.

"Enough of this tough act, Sadie. Sit your ass down here and stay put or I'll just let Micah kill you," I say assertively so she doesn't attempt to follow us.

"She's right… just sit, we can handle Micah," John adds, sounding a lot nicer than me.

She scowls at me before nodding. "Fine, I ain't even dying, I'll be fine just go get him!"

John and I look exchange an uneasy glance before hastily walking side by side. I count the bullets in my pistol as we continue towards the tower Micah is hiding in.

"I hope you're ready for this," he comments, reloading his own gun.

I nod to myself with self-assurance. "You think I'd still be here if I wasn't? Now shut up and watch my back cause you know I'm watching yours."

He chuckles softly. "That's the Ana I know."

Three men block our path. I recognize the one in the middle, another one of Micah's buddies. Joe. Let's just say he hasn't aged well.

"You two have a habit of just showing up," he says, sounding irritated.

"When we got something to take care of, yeah we do," John answers back harshly.

"Why don't you save yourself from the pain and just jump off this damn mountain, Joe. We're here for Micah," I say menacingly.

He narrows his eyes at me like he's got something else to say, instead he raises his shotgun. John takes them all down with three headshots. I don't remember him being that good of a shot.

It's like I'm not present in my own body as we mow down the rest of Micah's associates. John keeps on angrily shouting, I just shoot without a thought towards strategy or safety. We must've collectively killed about thirty men by the time we reach the tower Charles mentioned. No one is waiting for us outside, but a campfire suggests someone was around not too long ago.

I turn to John before we get close enough for Micah to hear us. "The only reason Micah is still alive is cause I underestimated him time and time again. We need to outsmart him today, John. You go get him talking and I'll sneak up on him."

He scans the area, seeming to focus on the outhouse as the best spot to hide. "That could work…" I'm about to walk away when he stops me by taking my hand. He pulls me back to him, kissing the top of my head gently. I don't return his affection or stop him. I exhale slowly to calm myself before a moment where so much can go wrong.

I retreat to the outhouse, moving lightly to avoid detection. John waits for me to be in place before calling out to Micah. "Micah, if you're here, come out."

It's silent for a few suspenseful seconds. Then a creak of a door opening heightens my senses.

"Hello Scarface… did you miss me?" Micah asks with the same demeaning tone that I remember. My blood is boiling as I watch him through a tiny hole in the wall.

"Not much," John answers, appearing exhausted yet somehow ready to fight.

Micah takes a few quick steps away from the outhouse, he's too far to sneak up on now. I curse silently for not going at him right away.

"Been a few years, how's that whore of yours? Or did you snatch the younger one?" His questions are off-putting, how has he forgotten our names that easily? I nearly killed him. He must be pretending to piss John off.

"She's good, thought killing you was a waste of time… but I felt different." John's fingers move in a way that shows he's preparing to grab his gun.

Micah snickers at his intentions like they belong to a hopeful child. "So it seems, maybe I'll go pay her a call after this is over… and the boy."

John presses his lips into a tight line. "Whatever you say."

Micah is the first to draw his pistols and rapidly shoot. John jumps into cover.

I lose sight of Micah when he goes behind a cabin. There's no way I can get to him without being spotted. I have to hold my ground until there's an opportunity.

"I got more men coming, you should run away!" Micah yells.

"I look forward to meeting 'em!" John answers bravely.

More shooting and furious exchanges between them. Micah will never go down this way, he's too fast.

Then finally, luck is on my side, Micah dashes for the outhouse. I block his path, pointing my pistol right between his eyes. He widens his eyes with shock and a hint of distress.

"You best wipe that look off your face and die with some dignity, Micah," I say coldly.

He smiles wickedly, slowly putting his guns back in their holsters. "Ain't you just a sight for sore eyes, just like old times…"

"Save that talk for someone else. Turn around and start walking."

Micah does as I tell him to since he knows I won't hesitate to kill him. I begin guiding him towards John when the cabin door forcefully swings open. A tall figure reveals himself from the shadows. A tiny sound escapes my lips as my eyes settle on a black fur coat worn by a bearded man with hair the shade of a crow's feather. His hand is tightly wrapped around a single pistol which he aims at John.

"Hello son," Dutch says, glaring at John. He hasn't even seen me. He turns his head, those familiar brown eyes staring into mine, I swear they soften just a bit when he looks at me. I force my gaze to the back of Micah's head, refusing to surrender to a voice that tells me to go to him.

"It's been quite a while," he adds.

Micah spins around, grasping my wrist so tightly that it forces my weapon from my hand. He gets his hands on it after slapping me so hard that I forget how to inhale for a second. Before I realize what's happened, he's got me in his arms with the barrel of my own pistol pressed against my cheek. I groan from pain and frustration.

"Now what were you saying?" Micah asks maliciously.

John looks so lost, like there's no clear solution to the problem before him. He turns to Dutch, ready to throw accusations his way. "What are you doing here, Dutch?"

"Same as you, I suppose…" he answers, sounding drained. I dare to look at him again. There's no sign of seven years in his appearance, other than a few strands of grey hair. He must be at least in his late forties. His skin is paler from this climate, yet he appears to retain fit physique. I shift my focus back to the extremely dangerous situation I'm in. I realize I've just completely ignored Micah rambling about money or something.

"Join us, John," Micah says at the end of his rant.

I stifle an insulting laugh. "Join some old gunslinger living in a cabin on a cold ass mountain. I'm sure that's exactly what John wants to do with his life."

Micah presses my gun harder against my flushed face. "Shut up bitch! You don't get to talk like that with a gun on you."

"Let her go!" John shouts.

"Now I can't do that, John…" Micah says, easing the pressure of the cold metal a bit. That'll leave a bruise.

Dutch finally looks at me again. There's a faint smile that reeks of guilt on his face. "You ain't changed one bit…" he looks down to the ring on my left hand, glaring at it with a puzzled look on his face.

"Oh trust me Dutch, I tried to for a long time… guess you were right about fighting nature after all. There ain't no point in trying." My vision blurs with tears, my heart is utterly conflicted. I'm married to Arthur yet here I am falling for this cursed messiah all over again. What is wrong with me? Have I such little willpower?

John interrupts, pointing his gun at Dutch. "Come on Dutch! You can stop this!"

"You shot at me, son," he retorts calmly.

John inhales shakily while trying to tame his temper. "I had my reasons… and you left her for dead. What would you have done if I did that?"

Dutch doesn't answer. It almost looks like he knows he's in the wrong.

"We all did our best for you, it's not our fault things turned out the way they did. Killing me doesn't solve anything," John says slowly, aware that he's treading on dangerous ground.

"Killing friends ain't your nature, Dutch. I've always known that. Stop pretending like it is… play by your own rules and don't fight it," I say with a sweetness in my voice, like I'm nurturing him back to his former self.

I'm abruptly released from Micah's unbreakable grasp as gunshots penetrate his flesh. He stumbles backwards, somehow standing on his feet.

"You shot me, you shot me good…" Micah says, sounding like a coward for the first time. I turn around to see that Dutch is the one who fired. It took him this long to understand who Micah truly is. He's seven years too late, but late is better than never.

John seals the fate of Micah with every single last bullet in his gun. His limp body collapses face-first into the snow. I watch for any signs of life, there is none. Micah being dead right before my eyes feels almost too good to be true.

I turn to Dutch, who has an expression which I cannot read. He doesn't appear to be satisfied or upset.

"Thank you…" John says cautiously as if Dutch might shoot him next.

He doesn't respond, he looks back inside the tower as a hint that there's something of interest there. Dutch takes a few slow steps towards me as John goes to inspect.

"You're married then?" he asks me.

"The ring is a dead giveaway, huh?" I respond, avoiding a direct answer. I wipe snow off my pants and take a step closer to him, wanting to get an even better look at him. He's still as handsome as I remember.

"To John?"

"No… Arthur," I respond quickly.

He widens his eyes. "Arthur… is alive?"

I nod, smiling slightly. "He didn't wanna come, said revenge is a fool's game."

Dutch looks relieved to hear this; his shoulders relax. "Good, good… I am sorry that we parted in such an unpleasant way, Ana. I hope life has treated you better since then. I'll leave you be now." He starts walking towards a hill in the opposite direction from where we arrived. I carefully inspect each step he takes away from me, imagining what might happen if I followed him.

Is the Dutch I see right now the man I fell in love with? I doubt it. I have no real reason to explain the choice I'm about to make. I spot Charles and Sadie coming towards the tower, appearing well enough despite their injuries. I have only a moment to act on this possibly stupid impulse, so I do.

I follow Dutch down the hill, he's gone quite some distance in the time that I stood and contemplated what to do. His footprints make it easy to find him.

He stops when he hears me approaching, turning to face me with a puzzled expression. "And just what do you think you're doing, Anastasia?" He asks me with recognizable confidence in his tone. I can't stop myself from smiling at his smooth voice.

"You really thought I'd let you have the last word after seven years?" I answer, making him chuckle. His happiness warms my heart while standing in the freezing cold.

"I suppose that would be out of character for you… but you have a husband waiting for you at home. I'm not sure what else there is to say." His smile fades as reality sets in.

I swallow anxiously at the thought of Arthur. He's going to hate me for this. "I care for Arthur, I do. After you left us, Dutch… I had your child, her name is Judith. And I don't think I ever really let you go cause she reminds me of you every goddamn day."

Dutch's jaw drops as he gasps in awe. "Ana, my god… if I had known that, I hope you can forgive me." He scoops up both my hands, his rough skin caressing mine.

"It ain't your fault… I think it's about time that the two of you meet," I say quietly, leaning in closer to his face.

His breathing sounds shaky from anticipation. "Are you certain that's what you want, my dear girl?"

"I've always been certain, Dutch."

Our lips meet and I'm wrapped around his finger once again. There was no point in trying to fight my love for him.

THE END

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this last chapter out! I got really busy and wanted to take my time on writing the ending. Hope you don't all hate me for the ending! I might do a bonus chapter at some point. I'm also planning a sequel to this or a whole new RDR fic entirely, let me know if you have any suggestions.

Disclaimer: I do not own RDR.


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